


The Man Who Chased Shadows

by Olwyn



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Magic, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Childhood Trauma, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Overcoming Trauma, Panic Attacks, Past Child Abuse, Romance, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-24
Updated: 2021-01-16
Packaged: 2021-03-05 06:06:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 61,515
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25479658
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Olwyn/pseuds/Olwyn
Summary: Forced into a questionable necromantic guild at a young age to practice highly rare, and feared shadow arts, Katsuki Yuuri, son of Duke and Duchess Katsuki, has never had the easiest of lives. He accepted that he would be nothing more than a tool for their corrupt crown until his isolationist kingdom is defeated by the advancing Ayattuma Empire.In a state of tumultuous freedom, Yuuri struggles to find his new place in a strange world until he discovers he is somehow connected to the cold Emperor of Rus. Unfortunately for Yuuri, fate has plans for him and he’s not sure if he has the power to struggle against it.
Relationships: Katsuki Yuuri/Victor Nikiforov
Comments: 88
Kudos: 150





	1. Chapter 1

The moon was in its sixth phase, the waning moonlight reflecting softly on the white and tan pitched tents. Bonfires threw flickering shadows around the encampment. A few drowsy soldiers in red uniforms strolled about the tents, lances laid on their shoulders.

Over the years, the Ayattuma army had been steadily making its way to the capital city, and it was now bearing down on Kyuu Castle with murderous intent.

“We will uproot the ruling Sato family!” the Ayattuman King had promised, shouting to a vast crowd from a balcony of the Sun Palace - in the center of Ayattuma's capital. “We are an Empire of the Sun! We cannot stand by and allow such blatant corruption from our island neighbors! Who is to say they will not turn on us tomorrow? We must strike now!”

Yuuri had been in that crowd, dressed in simple traveler’s clothes and covered in dirt. Very few glanced his way as he stood in the shadow of an empty fruit stand. He watched the way the people had cheered for that declaration of war, as if they were drunk with righteousness. Their feet pounded on decorative yellow and red bricks in a sort of ceremonial dance. Not that Yuuri could blame them; he knew on a personal level how ruthless and cunning Queen Sato Hisa was. He also knew that she cared for none other than herself.

The fact that he was even there at the announcement was at the Queen’s behest. She knew that international relations were tenuous and yet she continued to invite more conflict. Her desire for more personal wealth chafed other kingdoms as she invested in pirating and strictly controlled strategic trade-waters. Yuuri knew that no matter what was said here today, it would change nothing for the Queen.

The crowd began to disperse. He pulled at his magic, allowing his body to blend further into the shadows as well as convinced people to be disinclined to investigate his particular corner.

He listened to the people around him, holding his breath whenever he saw someone nearby open their mouths.

“. . . my brother is leaving next week to Charki base . . .”

“. . . they deserve to be crushed for blocking international trade waters . . .”

“. . . Kyuunans are so strange – I heard they’re so formal that they don’t even hold hands in public . . .”

He grimaced at a few of the rumors floating around, but otherwise he made note of important information, especially things he had heard repeated more than twice. Then he began to move along the buildings by stepping underneath the shade of the awnings, and slipped unnoticed into a darkened alleyway.

Yuuri had heard what his Queen wanted to know and now it was time for him to decide what, exactly, he would tell her. The Ayattuma army would begin gathering within the week, meaning they would likely reach Kyuunan shores within two or three months.

However, he wasn’t inclined to tell her as such, for she had no loyalty from him. But she took great joy in lording his family’s safety over his head, making both subtle and blatant threats against them.

Objectively he knew she couldn’t do much harm to the Duke and Duchess Katsuki, as their influence in court was the greatest amongst the other nobles. Not only that, but they were loved and respected by both their citizens and fellow members of the inner court circles. Any action taken against them would surely have a terrible backlash against the Queen.

But, he also knew that this was the same Queen that forced him, a noble boy the age of four, into what could loosely be called servitude. Having him stripped of his title and family, simply because he showed promise for a rare magic. For Yuuri, at four years old, he had to choose between joining the Guild of Necromancy and become Queen Hisa's tool, or he would be executed so he could never be used against her.

If she could abduct the son of a Duke despite the uproar it created, then he had to assume there wasn’t much that she wouldn’t do to gain more power, consequences be damned.

Making his decision to inform the Queen about the declaration of war but to downplay how soon he thought Ayattuma would begin to march, he knew it was time to return to Kyuu.

Finding the darkest corner he possibly could at midday, Yuuri pressed himself into a garbage alcove between two buildings and closed his eyes, gathering as much magical strength as he could from his surrounding shadows. Then he slowly tossed out a rope of magic, as if it were a line of string to a fishing rod, slowly submerging into the depths of the ocean, and he let his consciousness drift along with it.

Then he felt a slight tingle. The feeling of another’s familiar consciousness.

 _Minami I’m coming in_ , he thought. Words couldn’t exactly be translated through their kind of magic, but intentions could be felt if you knew what to look for.

There was a warm feeling in response and Yuuri knew that his friend was ready.

He heaved in a breath, filling his lungs to their capacity, almost as if he were preparing for a deep dive. Then he whispered a spell that had taken him years to simply pronounce correctly, and he felt himself rapidly sinking into the damp darkness of the shadows. From the outside, it might look as if his body had simply melted into a black glob before fading into the surrounding shadows.

Shadow portals, to him, were like submerging into an ice bath. Breathless at first, then the sound of rushing water in his ears accompanied by the sudden trembling of limbs from the unexpected freeze. It passed by in a blur, then with a flash of light against his closed eyes, he felt the crash of breaking the surface and warmth settled on his face, slowly heating his body.

He shivered with exertion and the slight shock of going from too cold to too hot, but then he managed to force himself to snap back into attention and pull himself to his full height. He could not allow himself to be vulnerable. His paranoia allowed him to ignore his bodily aches and take in his surroundings. No longer was he pressed against cold brick buildings among towering piles of trash, but instead stood in the center of a well-tended garden, the sun almost completely behind nearby mountains, painting the sky with a crimson sunset.

Ah, he was in the Kyuu Guild of Necromancy’s poison garden.

“I don’t think I’ll ever get used to seeing you jump out of my shadow like that,” a voice said to him, teasing, but also in slight awe.

Yuuri turned to face his friend with a tired smile. “Sorry Minami,” he said, giving the other boy a slight bow. “I know it’s draining for you, too, especially when I had to jump at least three kingdoms lengths and an ocean away. But I _did_ warn you.”

Minami Kenjirou was something of a close friend to Yuuri. They had both been taken into the Guild through force at a young age – Yuuri for showing promise as a shadowmancer, and Minami as a necromancer specializing in uncommon vampiric magic, or blood magic. Through their shared hardship, they had managed to bond in a way that didn’t really require them to like one another, but they had tremendous respect for each other.

And although it was hard to reconcile Minami’s chipper attitude with his strong attunement to vampiric magic, an incongruity which made him slightly off-putting to many of the other members, Yuuri found him to be perfectly tolerable. Not that Yuuri could ever judge him even if he didn’t.

“You can just call me Ken, you know,” Minami said with a toothy grin.

“Never,” he responded, almost offended.

Minami simply shrugged, as if he already knew what response he’d get. “Well, when you’re done holding people at bay with a fifty-foot pole, just know that my offer stands, Yuuri.”

They were only friends of circumstance, Yuuri told himself, despite giving the other boy a small smile and another bow. It was so much easier to create a shadow portal through someone who was willing, so he would have to stay on a friendly basis with Minami. He did not feel that he deserved to call the other by a more familiar name.

“Ken sounds like an old man’s name,” he joked, but there was no bite. He was exhausted.

Minami spared him an annoyed glance but then said, “You look like you’re about to pass out. I’ll walk you to your rooms, just to make sure you make it there.”

“Fine.”

Yuuri allowed himself to be led down the gloomy halls of the guild’s campus. Torches lit with green fire – a fire that was fueled by energy sapped from spirits – lined the walls, making for an eerie atmosphere among the gray stone masonry and woven jute tapestries.

There were other members milling about the dorm halls. Some were students, while others were graduates, waiting on job requests from around the kingdom. In all there were only a handful of members. Necromancy wasn’t a sect of magic that many people attuned with easily.

Though, it was a rather profitable profession, all things considered, Yuuri thought. Unless your client was the Queen.

“I’ll let the Guildmaster know you’ve returned,” Minami said softly, giving Yuuri an encouraging pat on the shoulder. “Go ahead and sleep while you can.”

“Thank you,” he mumbled before walking to his bed and falling into it.

When he heard the door close, he used the last dregs of his energy to throw a cantrip at his door that would produce hooked thorns from the shadows around the doorway. Whomever opened the door without his permission would have their shadow pricked, causing moderate discomfort, but that was the price for disturbing him while he was somewhat unawares, so he wasn’t really against using it.

That finished, he flopped, boneless, on his bed and promptly fell into a deep sleep.

The knock on his door came much sooner than he would’ve liked, though he sat up with a groan anyway. Whoever it was hadn’t opened the door, which meant it was either someone polite and he needn’t worry, or it was someone who could sense his cantrip and he’d have to be ready for anything.

Slapping his cheeks to try and wake himself up more, Yuuri called out, “Come in.”

The words forced his cantrip to vanish.

The Guildmaster pushed the door open slowly, only enough to make his presence known. He was once a tall, proud man, but over the years his back had hunched severely, and his face seemed to sag further with wrinkles as each month passed.

Yuuri took in the Guildmaster’s tired eyes, once brown, but now green with stored spirit energy; his spotted face, and bald head. This man used to terrify him. Now, he wasn’t sure if this man had been put in the same circumstances as he and Minami, though Yuuri couldn’t bring himself to forgive him. Perhaps Queen Hisa also beat him into submission. It was hard to say.

“The Queen has . . . requested your presence at the castle,” the man said, his voice throaty, not unlike a frog. “It would not do to delay.”

With a heavy sigh, Yuuri forced himself out of his bed. He straightened his simple tunic and trousers and ran a hand through his mussed hair. “I’ll leave now,” he said. “I plan to walk. I’m functioning on reserves.”

The man nodded. “The Queen is . . .” the Guildmaster searched his mind a moment for what he could say without potentially offending an eavesdropping loyalist. “Hm. Particularly agitated this evening,” he finally supplied.

Yuuri grimaced but said nothing. He was, in some respect, grateful for the advanced warning. But, he still too embroiled in his hatred about his position to ever show an ounce of positivity towards the man.

“I see.”

With the curt end to their conversation, the Guildmaster swept away, occasionally touching a flickering torch with a forefinger to give it more life as he disappeared down the hallway.

Grumpily, Yuuri went to the small chest in the corner of his room and fished out one of his travelling packs. They were always ready with a set of spare clothes, a tinder box, carving knife, and three empty waterskins. He trotted down the halls, out of the dormitories and into the kitchen where the staff happily filled his bag with wrapped bundles of steamed buns and rice balls. He filled his skeins and then was swiftly on his way.

The sun had already set and Yuuri breathed deeply. The twilight hours invigorated him in the same way a hot bath energized sore muscles. On foot it would take him around four hours to reach the castle gates – if he’d had the energy, he could have shadow stepped, allowing himself to fall into his own shadow and quickly skip between the amorphous shadows of shaded hedges, or under the boughs of the nearby forest, as if they were simple corridors. Doing so, he could’ve made the trip in just under an hour.

But he hadn’t the energy, and he wasn’t particularly willing to meet with the Queen, who had likely sent a missive the second she had heard that he had returned. The delay of waiting for a messenger on horseback had given him a little under three hours of sleep.

Yuuri pushed his wire rimmed glasses to the top of his head to rub tiredly at his eyes. He needed to be mentally prepared for this meeting. He couldn’t be caught off guard – nothing he said or did could ever be used against him. He was so tired of mind games; yet it was the only thing he knew.

He spent his trip silently clearing his mind, munching on steamed buns, and absorbing as much of the soothing magical force of the night as he could.

The moon was halfway through its decent behind the mountains, sunrise threatening to change the world from inky blackness to an anticipatory gray, when he reached the tall, steel gates of Kyuu Castle.

Two guards stood at the checkpoint, their hands slipping to their long katanas as Yuuri approached. “Who approaches at this hour?” one of the men called out, suspicious.

Yuuri put his hands in the air. “Katsuki Yuuri, here at the behest of Queen Sato Hisa of the Kyuu Kingdom,” he answered, stepping closer so that they could better see his face.

“Ah,” the other man said, a smile forming on his face and his hand falling from his sword. “I recognize him, Hikari; he’s the Queen’s assassin. Best to let him through if you don’t want any trouble later.”

“Thank you,” Yuuri said, begrudgingly. A large part of him was hoping for a reason to be stalled. He was _not_ looking forward to this meeting.

“And he’s just walking through the gates?” the man, Hikari, said contentiously, although he still nodded an affirmative to another guard in a nearby wheelhouse, allowing for the opening of the gates. “Why can’t he just ninja himself inside or something instead of walking through the front doors?”

“It’s a formal summons,” Yuuri answered, already tired to the point of dropping his polite charade. “A formal summons is met with a formal arrival.”

The gates creaked open agonizingly slow. Yuuri was tempted to simply slip through the bars.

“A messenger has been sent,” the second man said once the gates were open enough for Yuuri to walk through comfortably. “Please await Her Majesty in the private audience chambers.”

Yuuri nodded curtly and made his way onto the castle grounds. Instead of entering through the grand entrance, he swerved off the main road through the courtyard and easily slipped through the statue garden towards the main kitchen entrance.

Servants were already up and bustling about the kitchen, kneading dough, washing fruit, and making jams for breakfast. Yuuri ducked through the staff, earning some curious glances and more than a few glares.

Yuuko, a girl he had met during his many visits to the castle, was one of the head chefs and Yuuri found her with relative ease. Not very many women were given positions of authority in Kyuu's kitchens, but Yuuko was a fire mage, and her obvious skill when it came to tending the ovens at the perfect temperature for her foreign breads and cakes, had made her somewhat famous in the region. Some even called her The Bread Mage, much to her chagrin. She was standing next to a set of four hot ovens, molding airy dough into several different shaped tins as she listed off instructions for nearby workers.

“Yuuko,” he greeted, injecting some genuine cheer into his voice. “Nice to see you this morning.”

She didn’t bother turning from her work, but simply attempted to flick a lock of brown hair out of her face that had escaped her ponytail. “Yuuri,” she answered, her voice light, but with an edge of annoyance. “Always popping out of shadows at the busiest of hours.”

“I walked through the door –“

“Go ahead and leave your bag under that table.” She shoved her thumb towards a center table mainly used for meat preparation. “I’ll make sure to stuff it with plenty of goodies before you get back, alright?” She tossed a smile over her shoulder before scooping up the tins and placing them carefully in the hot ovens with her bare hands. “Now get going! You’re in the way!”

Knowing better than to argue with a chef in their own kitchen, Yuuri did as he was told and quickly exited. He stalked through the castle halls, unconsciously melding himself into the shadows as he passed through the central hall and towards the east end where several rooms for audiences and formal dinners were located.

He decided it was best to simply bypass the guards and soldiers to save himself time from explaining his presence, and so Yuuri arrived at the carved maple double doors that led into the private audience chamber with ample time to spare. This wasn’t a room that held any fond memories for him, but he repressed a grimace and, using what energy he had gathered during his walk, shadow melded through the split between the two doors to prevent any sound that might have emitted from their opening.

There was little that could stop a shadow from slipping through – just as little could stop light from shining through.

He took his place in the corner of the room, as far away from the plush seat at the head of ebony audience table as he could. It was an intimidating room, filled with overly expensive décor, and a slight slope in the floor to give whoever sat at the head seat an almost imperceptible height advantage. Everything about it was created to make guests feel nervous, and even though he had been in this room more times than he could count, it still made his hands tremble in anxious fear.

After a few minutes of silence, the door was forced open, slamming against the wall. Queen Hisa stormed into the room, her dress, make-up, and hair impeccably fashioned despite the early hour. She had likely been in her dressing room since receiving notice about Yuuri’s return.

“Come,” she demanded as her steward closed the door to give them privacy. She thrust her finger towards the floor in front of her. “Kneel before me, my tool.”

Yuuri bit down the grimace that threatened to mar his perfectly neutral expression. He stepped up to his Queen, bowed deeply, then dropped to one knee without looking her in the face. Last time he made that mistake, he was eleven years old and she had slapped him across the face after turning her rings, so the raised jewels stuck out from her palm.

“Your Majesty,” he said.

“Tell me everything you heard,” she said sharply. “If I find that you’ve left out a single detail, I’ll have your entire family bled out on the streets like the pigs they are.”

“There will be war,” he forced himself to bite out. He stared at her heeled shoes. They were a deep burgundy color, encrusted with small pearls and gold beads. He wished they’d catch fire. “It was announced publicly. Some of the citizens claimed their loved ones would be sent to training camps within the month. They will likely formulate strategies and gather troops for a few months before marching forwards.”

Queen Hisa hummed. “If that’s true,” she said, leaning towards Yuuri.

Yuuri tensed, knowing that this wasn’t a meeting that would end favorably for him.

Suddenly the Queen snatched him by his hair, savagely yanking his head back until tears sprang to the corners of his eyes. “I know you’d never betray me,” she cooed at him, flexing her fingers to get a better grip on him. “Tell me, how long do you think before they land on Kyuu shores?”

“About four months,” he lied, refusing to move an inch. He couldn’t fight back, but it didn’t mean he had to submit.

“That might buy me enough time to contact Chizia for a war alliance,” she murmured, using her free hand to scratch a nail down the side of Yuuri’s face, smiling when he happened to wince. “Ah you’re such a useful boy. How old are you now? Fifteen – sixteen? I can’t be bothered to remember. Though I am glad at your youth. It means you will have many more years left to serve me, after all.”

She gave his hair another sharp tug and then released him, strands of his hair caught in some of her many jeweled rings, causing them to be ripped out as she pulled her hand back. “Perhaps if you were a few years older you could serve me in . . . _other_ ways as well,” she mused.

Yuuri tried not to flinch at the suggestion, but he did imagine throwing up on her perfectly painted face as a personal retribution.

“Either way,” Queen Hisa sighed out, “If it’s come to war, then you shall be a particularly useful tool. I hope you won’t break easily.”

“As you command me,” Yuuri said automatically.

“Yes, and command you I shall. In a few days hence, a messenger will come to you with a list of names – likely Ayattuman generals, and maybe the loudest amongst their nobles that support our demise. I’m sure more will crop up along the way. But, dear boy, your job will be simple – at least it will be with your talents, I’m sure. You must kill them all. Do not get caught. And if you do, die before they can ask who sent you.”

Yuuri closed his eyes and bowed his head. Up to this point he had avoided killing anyone, despite people believing him to be the Queen’s assassin – that was simply a stereotype that came with his abilities. He’d come close once or twice during a physical altercation, and he’d _threatened_ assassination a handful of occasions, but to actually commit murder?

It had to be done.

“So it shall be done,” he said, willing his voice not to shake.

The Queen looked down on him with a smug smile.

How he hated that look.

“Then prepare yourself,” she commanded and promptly marched out of the room.

That meeting had taken place nearly three years ago. Since then he had been moving from target to target, with barely any time between each to recuperate enough to be able to reach the next. The longest break he had were the three months after Queen Hisa had discovered his small lie about when the Ayattuman armies might approach. She had been entirely consumed with rage; striking and beating him with a cane wrought from bone. Despite having no proof that he had lied instead of simply being misinformed, she beat him until she had broken two of his ribs and fractured his left arm.

Some days, usually before a storm was to roll in, he could still feel the ache in his chest and the fear that ran through his mind as that cane swung at his face. How he had prayed that his family wouldn’t suffer for his stupid decision.

But he was still alive, now on the eve of his eighteenth birthday, skulking through yet another Ayattuman army camp. His target was a newly appointed general, one who had no accolades to his name, nor accomplishments or outstanding talents. Average in every sense of the word, but his army was camped a three days march from Kyuu Castle. Desperate, the Queen dispatched Yuuri to take care of the problem.

Over the years, with the assassinations of their most prestigious peoples with connections to the Ayattuma-Kyuu War, the Ayattumans had developed several ways to make Yuuri’s job much more difficult. Potential targets were almost never left alone, they never ate or drank anything they hadn’t prepared themselves, or they had taste testers. Usually there was an obscene amount of guards and bodyguards; once one happened to be a necromancer – one of the few magic schools that might know how to sense him when he used spells.

He didn’t know if they actually knew _what_ to look for, since most people thought shadowmancy was a dead magic. But there was always the risk.

His feet made no sound, being that they were entirely encased in shadow. After days of observation, he now knew which tent belonged to his target, as well as his target’s face and magical aura. In his hand he clasped a capsule of poison, one that Minami had helped him make from the flowers in the guild’s poison garden. As soon as it was either bitten or swallowed, that person would die within the hour, as the vampirically enhanced poison would seek the bloodstream without even being properly digested.

The General’s tent was nondescript, towards the center of the camp’s right wing. There was a lantern burning inside and he could see three figures standing within.

Tentatively he reached out with his magic as he pulled himself into the wavering shadow of the tent itself. Each man inside held a different aura – some schools of magic were easy to identify, such as elemental magics, since their aura tended to feel like the element they channeled. Other’s were less obvious, such as illusion or mind magics, as they tended to have more subtle effects.

The General’s aura was hot and fiery, and it burned bright in Yuuri’s mind. It reminded him of Yuuko, but this was an intense wildfire, where Yuuko’s warmth was controlled and comforting.

He circled around the tent, moving close to the General’s shadow that was cast through the woven fabric. Breathing in deeply he prepared himself. This was going to be difficult. Using the shadow of a person without their permission took an exponential amount of energy, as he would basically be invading a part of their soul. Right now, however, he had no alternative.

Whispering cantations under his breath, Yuuri parted his consciousness between shade and corporeal, straining to find an equilibrium so that his hand, then his arm, followed by his shoulder and part of his chest melded through the small holes of the weave that made up the side of the tent, until his palm was far enough inside to clasp over the mouth of the General.

Yuuri knew he had to act fast. This was extremely risky with two others in the tent, with his magic draining fast, but this man had to die tonight to prevent the army from marching first thing in the morning.

He swooped inside through the General's shadow, and he forced his hand back into solidity, the capsule still cradled between his thumb and palm. Just as the man began to shout in fear, Yuuri pressed his hand against the man’s open mouth and forced the pill under his tongue. He felt the General’s teeth bite into the fleshy part of his hand, but at the same time he heard the capsule pop and he willed himself into shadow again.

It had taken him under twenty seconds to accomplish his goal, but he was straining, sweat dripping from his brow as he threw his shadow from corner to corner using the other shadows around the camp as passageways.

Yuuri gasped for air, his magical energies dwindling dangerously low. If he could get far enough away, he would be okay. He had a vast pool of magic at his command, and one that was constantly filled with a soothing trickle of energy every night, every stormy day, in the darkest corners on the brightest of days. But shadowmancy was, despite popular belief, incredibly difficult and taxing.

It was infinitely easier to be either completely corporeal or completely shadow. But to become half of both, or partially one over the other, it was as if he had to split himself into two different people, with two different sets of thoughts, wants, needs – everything – and then try to meld them seamlessly together into the shape that he sought. Exhausting didn’t even begin to cover the feeling.

He could hear the clanging of the alarm bells in the distance, shouts, and roaring voices like a small buzz in the background. They were probably already scouting for him, and had anticipated his appearance. There wasn’t much time left before they found him.

Yuuri spotted a small lantern in the forest in front of him and he could feel Minami’s aura brush up against his mind – _the compulsion spell_ , he thought, belatedly as his body slumped momentarily before picking itself up and jogging towards the light without any input from Yuuri. He wouldn’t be able to stop even if he had wanted to, but this was a part of his plan. He’d known he likely wouldn’t have the energy to get away from the chaos that would ensue, so Minami had agreed to help him with the final hurdle by spelling him into obedience to return to a safehouse. Normal bodily limitations meant nothing against a strong compulsion spell, even though Yuuri knew he’d be unconscious for a few days after this.

He could barely recall where he ran, or the warmth of Minami’s cloak as it was wrapped around his shoulders. There was a momentary feeling of floating and then everything was submerged into inky darkness.

* * *

Yuuri awoke with a start, his head pounding and his muscles spasming as he tried to sit up.

A cool hand touched his forehead and pushed him gently back down onto, what he belatedly realized, was a cushioned bed.

“You’re safe,” a soothing voice said.

“Minami,” he whispered, relieved. “I made it?”

“Yeah, you did.”

Several pillows were carefully piled behind his back and head, helping him to sit up.

“You’ve been asleep for three days and I know you probably want to go back to sleep, but you really should drink some broth before you do.”

Finally opening his eyes, Yuuri took stock of his predicament. He was in his room back at the guild. The black-out curtains over the windows were pulled apart with pale autumn sunlight spilling in. Minami sat on a three-legged stool next to his bed; he was ladling a rich smelling broth from a clay pot into a bowl.

Minami pressed the bowl into Yuuri’s hands. “Can you drink?” he asked, “Or do you need me to help you?”

“I’ll do it.” He wasn’t sure if he could, but he couldn’t allow himself to be fed like a baby. He harbored far too much pride for that. “Did . . .” he hesitated to bring the bowl to his lips. “Did everything work out?” he managed to ask before focusing on getting the broth into his mouth.

Minami smiled thinly. “Yes and no? I’m not sure. You definitely completed your mission, but . . .” at this Minami looked away. “I don’t think it had the effect that Queen Hisa was hoping it would.”

Yuuri sighed. There was more to this story, but he was too tired to try and pry for it. He finished his broth and handed back the bowl. The grasp of sleep was already pulling at him.

“Go back to sleep,” Minami fussed, removing the pillows from behind Yuuri. “We’ll talk more when you wake.”

“Mmhm.”

Yuuri was asleep before Minami could finish pulling out all the pillows.

The nightmare came to him that day. It was an old fear – something eldritch, seeping into his consciousness like black sap welling from a wound on an evergreen. All the same, it embraced him almost like an old friend.

He recalled the size of his hands. So small; barely big enough to wrap around his mother’s first three fingers – gripped tightly in anxious fear. His legs had trembled, knees knocking together as a dark hand was placed on his shoulder – squeezing.

_“Please, don’t – he’s still a baby! Don’t take my baby from me!”_

His mother’s pleas still rang in his ears fourteen years later. How she sobbed and fell to her knees, clutching him around his waist in desperation.

_“I am sorry my dear Duchess,”_ the evil voice had said, rasping like hunks of rusted metal rubbing together. The Guildmaster. _“Queen Sato Hisa has demanded he be forged to her liking . . . or be killed before he can be used against her.”_

The hand on his shoulder pressed harder. He could remember the screams that tore through his throat as a pain he never thought existed ripped through his body. Only learning years later that it was the regrets and vengefulness of spirits turned into a physical affliction.

_“No! No! Stop! I acquiesce! Please! Just don’t hurt my baby!”_ his mother had wailed, tears falling from her round, brown eyes.

Yuuri woke with a start, unconsciously pushing his haggard body into a striking position. The nightmare was fresh in his mind, setting his paranoia into high alert. He felt a small niggling at the very corner of his consciousness. The feeling of being watched.

He blinked at the harsh sunlight that flooded through the room. Someone had, once again, pulled back his black-out curtains and currently stood in the center of the window, their silhouette nearly eclipsed from the noon sun.

The final dregs of his dream evaporated from his mind as he grounded himself by scanning his surroundings. He was in his guild quarters – a brick stone room with thin, dark green rugs, a blackened fireplace, sparse furniture, and fewer personal affects.

“That you, Minami?” he grumbled, making his body relax. Subtly Yuuri glanced at his hands – his flat palms and long fingers crisscrossed with small, almost invisible white scars from years of knifework. Not the small hands of his dream. “What’s going on?”

The young man stepped away from the window. Minami smiled sheepishly at him. “Sorry Yuuri. I didn’t really want to wake you, but there’s been some . . . ah, trouble.” He crossed the room and sat down on his stool, his face pale and bleached hair in disarray.

“What happened?” Yuuri found himself asking. Minami was normally very put together. Something big must have happened to put the young necromancer into such a state.

Minami drew in a deep breath. His smile was shaky at best, but Yuuri tried to ignore it for Minami’s sake.

“Queen Hisa is dead.”

Yuuri stared, uncomprehending. How was it possible to be so filled with both sheer terror and astonished joy at the same time?

Minami waited for a response. When there was none, he started to babble. “Apparently she was tricked. That General you killed was a decoy and the real one was posing as an assistant. So, when the decoy died, he used that as an excuse to march the men before dawn – for revenge or something. Last time you woke up they had just begun to lay siege to Kyuu Castle.” Minami shuddered, but continued. “It wasn’t . . . it was a ridiculously one-sided battle. The Guildmaster declared the guild neutral in the conflict, so no one was sent out to fight but . . . _the spirits_.”

Yuuri closed his eyes and let Minami end that thought. He wasn’t as attuned to spirits and underworld powers as most of the guildmembers, but he could imagine how overwhelmed they must feel – the despair; the regret and pleading that must’ve rapidly filled the air around them. He wouldn’t be surprised if the most sensitive of them had been locked in the dungeons to prevent them from being possessed by the strongest of the spirits.

“But in return for respecting their neutrality, the Ayattuman royal family has requested your presence at Kyuu Castle.” Minami scrubbed at his face. “I think they know that you’re a shadowmancer, or at least – I’m fairly sure they know that there was only one person behind all the assassinations. The Guildmaster agreed to send you but. . . Yuuri, you have to go – the – the other students. . . they are still young and . . . what if they attack the guild because you refused?”

“You’re only sixteen, you know,” Yuuri interjected, his mind still reeling with the barrage of information.

“And you just turned eighteen! And you were unconscious for your entire birthday! And – and Yuuri I don’t want you to get hurt! B-but the children. . .”

Yuuri swung his legs out of his bed and ran a shaking hand through his hair. “I’ll go,” he said with a tired sigh. “But I’ll also be incredibly careful. You’ll stay receptive to a shadow portal, yeah?”

Minami brightened. “Of course! And on a positive note, they asked that you arrive to Kyuu Castle in two days’ time. So, you should have a chance to draw in some energy – and eat! Oh, the chef made you a little honey cake for your birthday and . . .”

Yuuri only half listened with a pleasant smile as Minami began to babble about what he had missed within the guild’s walls, his mind racing franticly with questions, worries, and implications to this new development.

Would this be the end?

* * *

Two days later Yuuri was once again trudging towards Kyuu Castle. His traveling pack was nearly bursting with sweet rolls, steamed buns stuffed with meats, and crisp vegetables straight from the chef’s own garden.

Yuuri held one of the steamed buns in his hands, contemplating it and the kind cooking staff at the guild. He took a bite, humming as the savory meat flavors washed over his tongue. Now, he supposed, was a good enough chance to mull over what he had learned and what he might face when he arrived at the castle.

While he had been unconscious under Minami’s care, the army camp that held the decoy General had swiftly moved forward while Queen Hisa sat back on her throne, expecting the chaos of the assassination to give her enough time to prepare for either a counter-attack or set up an anti-siege plan. Her lackadaisical attitude had only brought about her death.

The siege of the castle had taken all of two days, so woefully unprepared as they were. The Queen had been cornered in her bedroom where she was attempting to flee through a hidden passage with a personal servant. Yuuri overheard from some of the kitchen staff that she had begged shamelessly for her life, offering hysterical bribe after bribe: money, status, military rankings, the lives of her stewards, down to her very own body. From what he knew of her, he believed she had.

Then, once captured, Queen Sato Hisa had been executed in the palace orchard, in front of her court retainers, then her body immediately burned as if had carried a plague. It had been a threat to those that had been loyal to her, and a show for those that had suffered under her rule.

Thinking about it, Yuuri couldn’t find an ounce of sympathy in his body for the vile woman. She was the one who had destroyed everything he could have been – stealing from him a future he could hardly even dream about.

Sometimes he wondered how the Kyuu Kingdom had become so weak – although rationally he knew that the kingdom had deteriorated under the Sato rule. But Kyuu had once been renowned for their highly skilled and loyal soldiers, brilliant military strategies, and endless drive to keep invaders from their island kingdom. However, as he walked along the main road, he could see the funeral pyres, smashed wagons, and the soldiers that marched along in the red and gold colors of Chulanont, the ruling family of Ayattuma. In a way, those scenes gave him a better impression of how thoroughly defeated his kingdom was, more than Minami’s glum words ever had.

He held back a small sigh. He had spent the previous day resting with his parents at their estate. It had been few and far between in the past three years that he was permitted to visit them, despite their vocal protests to the crown. His mother’s hugs were as warm as he had remembered them, and his father still found a couple hours for him to visit an etiquette class – just as he always had for every visit Yuuri made. Mari could still see right through him, almost reading his mind, he felt, as if they had spent every day of their childhood together.

Yuuri knew, in some desperately closed off part of his mind, that his family still considered him a noble, although his title had been stripped from him. They kept him close, if not in their home, then at least in their thoughts and actions. And because of it, Yuuri found himself never able to drift away from them, but instead loving them all the more. He was sure that Queen Hisa had a hand in facilitating their reunions and his vacations to their home, since she couldn’t control him so solidly if he held no love for his family at all.

As he crested the hill before Kyuu castle, he could see that the tall steel gates had been bent inwards. All around large boulders lay strewn about. They were precariously rolled off to the side of the main road, in the front courtyard, as well on the steps leading to the grand entrance - many of the stones had chips and chunks scattered about where they had landed and shattered. One was still wedged between a pair of collapsed steel bars.

He heard that Ayattuma had massive beasts of burden and he wondered if this destruction was due to rock wielding elephants or if it had been a highly trained group of stone mages. Thinking back, he wasn’t sure if the army encampment had had a stable area or not, as it hadn’t been his focus at the time.

As he made his way through the beaten gates, a boy of maybe fourteen or fifteen years intercepted him, just as he had begun moving towards the main doors.

“Excuse me,” the boy said, his voice soft and warm, and his accent pitchy. He had light brown hair and eyes the color of warm caramel. Yuuri couldn’t pin the boy’s ethnicity, although he was certain he was from neither Kyuu nor Ayattuma. “You are Katsuki Yuuri, correct?”

“I am.”

“Wonderful! I am Guang Hong Ji, steward and personal attendant to His Royal Highness, Crown Prince Phichit Chulanont.” The boy gave a flourished bow, twirling his wrists in a manner Yuuri had never seen before. “Please follow me. My master has requested your presence in the private audience chamber.”

Yuuri could feel his fist clench in reflex. The private audience chamber. . . Honestly, the moment he was able to process the death of Queen Hisa, he had hoped he would never have to lay eyes upon that room for the remainder of his lifetime. And now . . . he wasn’t sure how he felt about possibly being given orders from a foreigner in that same room, let alone by a prince that would likely rule over his defeated country.

He followed the young steward silently, surveying his surroundings as he took the short, yet familiar journey. Even after two days of cleaning, there were still signs of battle in the castle. Walls were scarred from weapons both physical and magical; scrapes and burns along the stonework - some corners were still stained with dark blood; while tapestries, rugs, and urns had been toppled, cracked, ripped, and burned in the struggle.

The cleanup looked be going slow, but Yuuri was sure that the Ayattumans were busy flushing the courts, looking for those that would swear their loyalty, and executing those that would pose too much of a threat to their tenuous hold.

Eventually they arrived at the audience chamber’s entrance. Guang Hong tapped his knuckles on the thick maple doors. “Your Highness, Katsuki Yuuri is here as you requested.”

“Oh great! Send him in!” called a voice from inside.

Yuuri was incredulous about how cheerful and casual the person on the other side of that door sounded, but he schooled his expression into something he hoped looked neutral. He was accustomed to screams, barked orders, and whispered demands out of that room. Now he had no idea what to expect.

Guang Hong opened the door, bowing once again as Yuuri slipped passed and stepped inside.

A young man about Yuuri’s age sat at the head of the ebony table. His feet were settled on the tabletop and he tipped precariously back in his chair. Despite his relaxed posture, he watched Yuuri enter carefully, his expression holding tentative warmth.

“Katsuki Yuuri! It’s great to meet you at last! I’ve heard so much about you in the short time I’ve been here, so I was wondering what you were really like. I am Phichit Chulanont, the heir to Ayattuma, Empire of the Sun.”

The prince thrust his hand out towards Yuuri. He was tall with dark skin and hair, and to top it off, his Kyuunan was nearly perfect – only a slight inflection where there normally wouldn't be. His tailored suit was red and stopped just short of being blindingly ornamented with golden beads, ropes, and sash.

Yuuri, unsure what to do about the hand, bowed instead, as he was accustomed. “The pleasure is mine, Your Highness.”

Prince Phichit stared for a moment before stalking over to Yuuri and forcibly taking his hand into his own. Then he shook hands vigorously. “This is how we greet in the Ayattuma Empire,” he explained with a dazzling smile. “And, well honestly, most places in the world these days. Kyuu has been in isolation for generations, so I really shouldn’t be surprised, but well, you know.”

“I . . .” He didn’t know. “Uh, as you say.”

The Prince waved his hand about distractedly. “So formal! I heard you grew up in a necromancer guild. I didn’t think they’d teach things like overly stuffy manners there.”

“Not particularly,” he answered, weary. He wasn’t about to confess that his parents had drilled etiquette into his head every chance they had – a sign of their hope that he would once again return to the Katsuki household permanently. At the moment he was more concerned with who had told the prince this information? He thought that the Chulanont family had only found him through the guild, but now it sounded as if he had come to their attention through a different avenue? And why had he been summoned to meet with him alone, assuming they knew what he was?

He reached out with his magic, stroking at the shadows in the room and listened: there was no one else nearby apart from the steward outside the door. “May I be blunt?”

“Sure.”

Yuuri frowned. The informality was making him uncomfortable. Not even Minami was this casual with him. “Why invite me here? Should you not be demanding my head right now?”

Prince Phichit sighed. “And here I was, hoping we’d have a nice chat before getting into specifics. I guess you’re not the sort to trust others easily?”

“I don’t trust my own shadow,” he answered, his tone clipped.

“Shame. Though from what your parents tell me about you, I can’t say I’m all that surprised, either.”

Yuuri fought to keep the surprise from his face. His _parents_ had been in contact with the Chulanont family? His stomach roiled with the thought that perhaps his history was repeating itself; the safety of his family would once again be held against him – he would never be free.

Prince Phichit returned to his chair and tossed his feet back onto the table with a sigh. “Duke and Duchess Katsuki, as you know – or maybe you don’t? I don’t know, you don’t seem like the kind of person to really care about noble affairs. Anyway, they are the most influential family after the ruling family, whose line has ended with Queen Sato Hisa. Basically, we need their support and goodwill for our occupation to go over smoothly. And they’ve agreed to do so, under the condition that we reinstate your nobility.”

The young prince winked, despite the obvious way Yuuri’s body stiffened with disbelief. “So, welcome Kyuu Castle, Lord Katsuki Yuuri. I’m pleased to make your acquaintance.”

Yuuri felt frozen. This was not something he had prepared for – not even in his most inane fantasies!

Immediately his mind jumped to find an explanation. It had to be a trap. They knew what he was. Were they trying to lull him into a false sense of security and then take him out once he lowered his guard? They had to know how many of their officers he’d killed – many of them from their nobility.

“You . . . you look like you’re about to try and jump out of that window,” Prince Phichit said, pointing at a steepled window on the other side of the room. “This might come as a surprise, but it’s true. The Chulanont family only had issues with the Sato clan, and considering you were just a tool – well, you can’t blame a tool for how its master decides to use it.” He nodded to himself, seemingly pleased with his analogy. “Now that that’s taken care of – or is being taken care of, it’s time to rebuild. Kyuu is going to be an excellent ally and contribution to the commonwealth. But only if they govern themselves without more corruption.”

“But you know what I am,” Yuuri interjected. “Why would you endanger yourselves with my presence?”

“Endan. . . what are you talking about?” Prince Phichit stood once again, a look of consternation on his face. “You are a shadowmancer.”

“Yes.”

“And so, by default you are an evil person who kills others just because he can – and can do so easily?”

Yuuri faltered. “That is the common perception,” he mumbled.

“Ridiculous,” Prince Phichit said. “You’re evil because people are afraid of what you can do? Does that make bears evil? Or cockroaches? Or . . . or those strange little men who paint their faces and dance with bells on their feet?”

Yuuri smothered a surprised chortle. “No?” he attempted to answer seriously.

“Right. You cannot begrudge them their lifestyle,” Prince Phichit said with a sage nod. The small, glittering crystals that hung from his circlet jingled with the movement. “Besides, how many people have you killed, Lord Yuuri?”

There was a spike of guilt in his chest and Yuuri turned his face away. “Enough,” he whispered.

Prince Phichit gave him a sympathetic smile. “And yet you still feel bad about it, which tells me it’s not as many as you think. You’re not evil, you’re just a victim of circumstance.”

Unwilling to argue, Yuuri simply continued to stare at the other end of the room. A thousand different thoughts were swirling around his mind. What was he going to do now? He could return to the Hasetsu estates and he’d be able to spend each day with his parents and sister. And then what? Be drilled in etiquette and diplomacy even more so, to make up for his childhood spent learning spells and knifework? He wouldn’t fit in. He loved his family, but he wasn’t sure how he was going to cope with . . . not being a tool.

“I know you’re probably thinking about how strange this all is,” Prince Phichit spoke with a sigh. “And as much as I want to say, 'you’re free!' My father only agreed to return your status if you proved both your worth and your loyalty to his family.” He shrugged, seemingly upset by the notion. “I tried, but I couldn’t make him change his mind on this matter, so for that I apologize.”

“So, the King of Ayattuma has a mission for me to prove my worth?” His shoulders relaxed marginally. In a way it was a relief to return to the familiar, even if was yet another command. At least the hand that trapped him this time seemed friendly enough – remorseful, even.

Prince Phichit nodded. “Unfortunately, it’s not something quickly done,” he said, making Yuuri hesitate. “He has declared that if you agree to guard me for the next three years while I am in Kyuu, not only will he reinstate your noble status immediately – because heavens forbid I have a guard not of noble standing – but then he also plans to make the Duke Katsuki the Lord Protector of Kyuu before relinquishing control after a decade or so . . . bah! Just a lot of political banter after that. Too many hypotheticals at the moment.”

“So,” Yuuri said slowly, his eyes finding Prince Phichit’s to pin the man down. “Ayattuma invaded simply to create a better ally? And he wants me to guard you, to prove that the Katsuki family is capable of . . . eventually taking over the throne?”

“Basically.”

“And what makes you think I wouldn’t kill you – out of revenge for my kingdom?”

“Well, other than it’d greatly benefit your family? I’m not sure how close you are to them, honestly, but they seemed desperate to get you out of that guild.” Prince Phichit’s head tilted slightly to the side, giving off the impression of curiosity. “Plus, you’ve had ample time and opportunity to kill me by now and you haven’t, so that’s a good start, right?”

Yuuri frowned. “So, you purposefully let yourself be alone in a room for an unspecified amount of time with a known shadowmancer . . . just to see if you could trust him?”

“Yes?”

“And you want me to _guard_ you?” Yuuri sighed deeply, already begrudging the decision he knew he had to make. “I almost feel like that’s asking me to fill a bucket with holes punched into the bottom.”

Prince Phichit barked out a laugh. “You can’t deny I need a really, really good guard, then, can you?”

Yuuri sighed, allowing his shoulders to slouch and his head to tilt slightly back as he weighed the pros and cons. Honestly, there wasn’t much to think about, but he needed to make a bit of a show. He shouldn’t look too eager to accept a job, and yet he wanted to jump right into it. It’d mean that he wouldn’t have to continue with the assassinations – hopefully – but also, he wouldn’t have to sit in at court and potentially embarrass his parents with his lack of political suave.

“Then I accept,” he said after a moment’s reflection. He gave Prince Phichit a deep bow, then straightened and held up his hand as if he were about to wave goodbye. When he was a child, he had read an old, molding text that had mentioned shadowmancer oaths. He hoped that even though the words to it had been lost with time, his intention would be enough to trigger the magics. “I will be your shield to protect not only your body, but your soul. I will be the shadow that follows your every step so you will hold no fear of the darkness.”

“And you will be my friend,” Prince Phichit interrupted with a small smile. “So, you may remind me that I am more than just my title and the blood that runs through my veins.”

Briefly Yuuri hesitated, but then he gave a sharp nod. Prince Phichit seemed easily pleased, so he thought he could at least keep him mildly entertained – that’s what friends did, he was sure. “Then I must ask, may I be allowed into your shadow?” He took a step towards the Prince, putting himself into reaching distance.

Prince Phichit looked from Yuuri’s face to his hand. “I’ll allow it,” he whispered, intimidated.

Yuuri took one of the prince's hands and set it against his own raised one. Their palms pressed together and then wrapped into a knot of sudden darkness. Yuuri could see how the Phichit instinctively tried to jerk away but was unable to remove his hand for the duration of the spell.

“And now our shadows are tied together,” Yuuri murmured before releasing Prince Phichit’s hand. He glanced around the room, pretending not to see the prince examine his own hand in confusion. “I suppose I’ll have to follow your lead at this point. Are you going to report to your father now?”

Prince Phichit nodded. “Yes, I suppose that’s the next step,” he mumbled, still in relative awe. “I suppose you’ll follow me now?”

“Just as a shadow would.” Yuuri stepped back into a darkened corner and pulled his magic around himself like a well-worn cloak.

The prince’s eyes went wide as Yuuri slowly faded into darkness. He looked around the room in wild amazement before he spotted his own shadow waving at him.

“You are literally my shadow,” he said, breathless.

His shadow nodded.

“That is so _fucking_ cool!”

If Prince Phichit didn’t know better, he would’ve thought his shadow shrugged, but he was fairly sure that it was perhaps one of the longest and hardest sighs Lord Yuuri had breathed in his entire life.

_The beginnings of a beautiful friendship_ , he thought and strode out of the room, alone, to the bewilderment of his steward.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is my first time posting for this fandom and pairing. I'm apprehensive. I hope I've made a decent start. And thank you for taking a moment to read this.
> 
> The amazing Jade_ice made some fab art for this chapter!  
> The Guild halls: https://photos.app.goo.gl/VhbCsmsixb4bdMHK6  
> And Queen Hisa: https://photos.app.goo.gl/3zRPgtDDqcuwPrss6


	2. Chapter 2

_Three years later . . ._

Yuuri frowned at his reflection as he adjusted his formalwear. After the occupation began, he noticed that clothes in Kyuu were vastly different than any he had seen from other countries. He supposed it was a consequence of their isolationism, but at the moment, he was begrudging wearing his hakama for tonight’s dinner. He’d rather just wear trousers and was silently jealous that the Ayattuman’s formalwear was a close-fitted jacket and a pair of pants – even if those pants were gathered at the sides to give an almost ridiculous ballooning effect.

Simple pants, Yuuri rationalized, were the optimal fashion choice in every situation. Especially considering he had to mind the fact that he might have to fight on Phichit’s behalf at any moment. Hakama weren’t exactly restricting, but it was a lot of fabric to pay attention to.

“Are you done fiddling with that obnoxious thing?” Phichit asked from the other side of the room. He was settled against the closed door, his arms crossed, but his expression mischievous.

Yuuri threw him a dark look. “Well if someone would change the dress code, Your Highness –”

“We’re alone right now,” the Prince tutted.

“ _Phichit_ ,” Yuuri forced himself to say. “I wouldn’t have to wear this burdensome thing if your father hadn’t ordered everyone to dress in their nation’s style.”

“There’s supposed to be a special announcement tonight,” Phichit said with an air of nonchalance, as if that would explain or _excuse_ the fact that Yuuri was extremely uncomfortable. He had dressed in a hakama only once before he had met Phichit. Now it was a regular occurrence for him to lament. “Besides, aren’t you used to wearing that by now? Your parents have been parading you about in it almost daily for the past year or so.”

Yuuri’s shoulders slouched. He couldn’t deny that. Since the moment his title had been restored, his parents had taken him back into the Hasetsu Estates, giving him lesson after lesson that every noble-born should know. They sat with him over warm meals as they had long personal talks about his life and interests into the night, and they brought him along to every court function they could, to assert his position within the family. Yuuri knew that they cared about him, but even after three years he _still_ wasn’t comfortable with the idea of being . . . well, someone to be admired, he supposed.

“It’s fine,” Yuuri sighed. Because there wasn’t anything inherently _wrong_ with the outfit; just something wrong with him. “Do you know anything about the announcement?” he asked to distract himself, turning away from his reflection.

Phichit shrugged, pushing himself off the door to walk over to Yuuri. “Father didn’t mention anything to me, so I guess it’s supposed to be a surprise.” He fiddled with a few of the folds on Yuuri’s outfit and tucked back a few errant hairs that had escaped Yuuri’s oil treatment. “Unfortunately, my father has different ideas than I about what a pleasant surprise is, so I guess, be prepared for anything?”

Yuuri huffed. “So, its market as usual?”

“ _Business_ as usual,” Phichit corrected fondly. “Your command of Ayattuman is getting better every day! Soon you’ll have all the idioms down pat!”

“Doubtful,” he responded, but still straightened up a little at the praise. When he had first started taking foreign language lessons with Phichit, he hadn’t been very confident in his abilities. But once Phichit pointed out that in order to use shadowmancy, he had learned a completely dead tongue with only obscure references on basic phonology, which had been an incredible, nearly _impossible_ , pursuit – Yuuri had succeeded. If he could do that, how hard could it be to learn other languages when everything was already known and there were others who could answer his questions?

“Are we ready to go?” he asked softly, feeling his mood tempered, as usual, by Phichit’s natural charm.

Phichit pushed open the chamber doors. “I’m ready to eat,” he said, his tone filled with laughter that would have to be disguised once they were within earshot of another noble. “Hopefully, some of that will actually be happening at this dinner. I hope you’re not too starved.”

Yuuri closed his eyes, unable to suppress his eyeroll, deciding to conceal it instead. He opened his mouth to speak but was interrupted before he could start.

“I am accustomed to small portions and limiting my food in preparation for worst case scenarios while on duty. Don’t worry about me.” Phichit mimicked over his shoulder. “The same speech you give every time. Yuuri you’re so predictable.”

“I am not,” he grumbled, unwilling to admit that that was exactly what he had been about to say.

Phichit smiled and picked up his pace once they were too far from the accommodations wing of the castle for a casual gait. A respectable Prince must never appear idle in public.

At times like this, Yuuri did not envy Phichit in the slightest.

The dining hall was more crowded than usual. Honeyed mead and rice wine were already flowing freely at all the tables. The chatter in the grand room was loud, but never was it obtrusive or boisterous – the Ayattumans were too conscious of their King, who held propriety in the highest regard, and the Kyuunans were reserved by nature; not one noble, no matter how high or low born, allowed themselves to step out of line.

Yuuri followed Phichit to the head table. It stood on a stone platform with three steps carved from rose sandstone leading up. He took his seat next to the Prince with a rather suspicious looking Ayattuman noble on his other side. Likely an invited guest for the meal – probably someone Yuuri would never see again. He set his hands in his lap and allowed his gaze to roam around the room, careful to avoid eye contact with anyone to prevent any sort of misunderstanding.

Phichit greeted his father, turning slightly away from Yuuri to give the impression that he was ignoring the Kyuunan’s presence. It wouldn’t do to show favoritism – especially not towards a noble of a different kingdom, but even less so to one that is known as a bodyguard, which could be considered a rather low-born job in certain circles.

“I heard you have an announcement to make tonight,” Phichit mentioned to his father, drawing Yuuri away from his observations to concentrate on the conversation happening next to him. “Since you’ve yet to say anything to me, I hope it’ll be a grand surprise.”

King Chulanont smiled thinly. He was a man just passing middle age; the wrinkles on his face started to deepen noticeably around his eyes and forehead. His dark beard was trimmed immaculately and brushed with a black powder to give it an appearance of being full. “I’m positive it is something that both you and Lord Katsuki will find delightful,” he said, his dark eyes – so much like Phichit’s, but lacking the warmth and mischievousness that the Prince’s held, slid from his son to rest on Yuuri’s face.

Yuuri bowed his head slightly in deference. He had just been given a hint, and he knew that Phichit had picked up on it too, judging by the way that the Prince’s shoulders squared slightly. If Yuuri had been included, then that meant it was something involving Phichit. Perhaps he was being sent to inspect the nearby estates again? But they had just gone last month; maybe a bit further out than usual?

He must have seemed too neutral in his expression because the sketchy noble on his other side leaned in closer to murmur.

“It seems you are hardly affected by the idea of this well-kept secret, Lord Shadow. Tell me, what do you know of it?”

Yuuri held back a snort of derision. As if he’d admit to spying on the King while the man sat merely one seat away. Not that he would to begin with. He did hold a great deal of respect for the man, even if he was ridiculously intimidating and conniving.

Unfortunately for both Yuuri and the noble, the King had overheard the man’s soft accusations. Those dark eyes once again pierced Yuuri in anticipation for his rebuke.

“I know only what His Majesty allows,” he replied calmly, refusing to even look at the other noble. If he could build a wall between himself and this man right now, he would.

The King, seemingly satisfied with that answer, sat back and clapped his hands twice. The chatter in the room dropped significantly and King Chulanont simply said, “Let dinner begin.”

Immediately two sets of double doors, that Yuuri knew led to both the kitchens and cellars, burst open. Maids and kitchen staff swept into the room with platters settled expertly on their shoulders and hips.

The King’s table was always served first, usually by one of the head chefs so that they may spend a moment detailing the night’s menu to the King if he so desired to know it. Tonight, it was Yuuko, who was ultimately waved off by the King before she could say a word. Still, she set silver domed trays in front of both Yuuri and Phichit with a flourish, giving them each a small smile and a wink before tending to the rest of the table, then disappeared back into the kitchens.

Yuuri was chuffed to find both he and Phichit had an extra slice of warm sweet bread slathered with butter. A rare treat in Kyuu, where wheat was almost exclusively imported.

“Popular with the kitchen staff, are we? I wonder what you’ve done to garner such admiration,” a noble woman on the other side of the table said after noting the extra portion for their first course. She fanned herself with a jeweled hand in false disinterest.

Yuuri, his mood souring with every taunt that these people threw his way, tried not to glare at the woman as he searched for something to say without breaching etiquette.

Unfortunately his attempt at schooling his expression wasn’t good enough, based on the way that Phichit cleared his throat and said, “Yuuri has known Head Chef Yuuko since they were children, due to his being at Kyuu Castle quite often growing up.”

Yuuri smiled politely, unflinching as Phichit subtly kicked his ankle under the table. “Yes, that’s right,” he agreed blithely.

At that point, the conversation turned into expected niceties and pointless chatter. Yuuri ate slowly, picking at a little of everything on his plate from each course as they came and went. He continued to quietly monitor the room around him, paying particular attention to people’s hands and the swaying movements of their clothes.

Once the dessert trays had been removed from the tables by the kitchen boys, King Chulanont raised one of his goblets and tapped a fork against it as he stood. Every eye in the room was on him, he he didn't even blink an eye under the pressure of their attentions. Yuuri was envious of that kind of confidence.

“Everyone, I would like to take a moment of your time to make an announcement,” he said, voice clear. “As you all know my son, Prince Phichit, will be celebrating his twentieth birthday soon and as a generous young man, the world is beginning to open up before him.

“Recently a letter has arrived to me, calling for a summit in the Western Continent by the Rus Empire – seeking ambassadors from the Eastern Continent to parley for alliances, trade agreements, and other such things.” He paused here, slowly surveying the room to judge his audience’s mood. “So, in short, I have decided to gift my son, for his birthday, a position as the Ayattuma Ambassador to the Western Summit, along with Lord Katsuki Yuuri to vouch for Kyuu, and Lady Tran An Chau to vouch for Viama. I hope this will help broaden his horizons and make him an even more excellent heir to the throne.

“Those who wish to dispute my decision may attend court this week to discuss. Our ambassadors will be leaving for the capital of Rus in one week, so please come to me before then.”

Yuuri could feel the blood drain from his face as excited chatter bubbled around him. He was positive that others noticed how pale he had become based on the way they would glance at him, then twist to their neighbors and whisper something behind their hands or fans.

Phichit turned to Yuuri with a smile, although Yuuri could see the slight panic in the Prince’s eyes. “Now won’t this be a proper adventure?” Phichit said, somehow managing to sound tentatively excited. “What an honor it’ll be for us to represent our people! I can hardly wait. Thank you for this birthday gift, Father.”

With the meal and anticipated announcement over, people began to leave in small groups, chatting amicably amongst themselves as they headed off to do their evening activities and retire for the night.

Yuuri sat in his chair, forcing a pleasant smile onto his face. He quietly thanked those that stopped by to congratulate him on his position, all the while desperately wishing for Phichit to announce that they were leaving as well.

Finally, once the room had been mostly evacuated, giving them a modicum of privacy with the King, Phichit excused themselves from the table.

Yuuri stood hastily, bowing from his waist. Before he could properly bid Phichit’s father a good night and thank him for the chance to be an ambassador, King Chulanont stopped him with an upheld hand.

“I know what pleasantries you wish to say, Lord Katsuki, and I want to tell you that you _have_ proven yourself worthy of this honor over these last years. And as much as I want to tell you that I chose you simply because of your loyalty and family’s position in our courts, I’m sorry. I fear this summit might not be as kindly as it sounds. So, I am asking you to do this, not as the ruler of the Sun’s Empire, but as a father who is about to send his only and beloved son into a far-off, and possibly dangerous, foreign land.” He sighed, seemingly unhappy with his own decisions. “This will be the last thing I ask of you, my young Lord.”

Yuuri’s head dipped down further, no longer able to look the King in the face. He felt he could almost choke on his own heartbeat, as hard and loud as it was. “I understand, Your Majesty,” he said tilting his face up once again to be heard properly. “I would do it no matter as whom you asked, for the Prince is a great friend and there is very little that I would not do for him.”

There was a little sigh from his side, and Yuuri shot a quick glance over at Phichit to see his friend wiping away a fake tear from his eye. Once again Yuuri closed his eyes to hide his inevitable eyeroll.

“It makes my heart glad to see my son so tenderly loved.” Although the man’s voice was still as strong as iron and didn’t sound joyed in the least, there was a kind expression to his face that almost made his eyes look as if they were dancing at his and Phichit’s antics.

“So very tender,” Phichit agreed, amusement lacing his voice.

Unfortunately for Yuuri, having father and son team up to tease him in this gentle manner was an occurrence more common than he would’ve liked. Even better if it never happened at all, but he knew that was too much to hope for when Phichit was involved. Sometimes he wondered if King Chulanont had passed down the impish nature to Phichit, or if Phichit had simply charmed his hardened father into it over time. He would never know.

“I really did want to say that I will do my absolute best, Father. I know it likely wasn’t an easy decision for you.” Phichit gave his father a pat on the shoulder, looking solemn for a second or two before brightening once again. “Now I do think we should leave before poor Lord Yuuri faints from distress.”

Yuuri frowned but decided not to fight, seeing as agreeing would expedite being dismissed.

King Chulanont huffed a short laugh. “Enjoy your night,” he said, waving his hand. “Please use this next week to prepare yourselves fully. Not just for the summit, but it is a week’s voyage by boat and carriage. I want you to note that there is an agreement that all guards and servants shall be provided by the Rus Empire to prevent treachery. This makes your position even more critical, Lord Yuuri.”

Yuuri bowed his head in understanding.

“Of course, Father.” Phichit gave a flourished bow. “Now, we’re going to spend many hours practicing our Ruish! Have a good night.”

Once they were back in the accommodations wing of the castle, Phichit let out a long, and sudden sigh, causing Yuuri, who had been using the silent walk to gather his rather depressed thoughts on learning idioms in yet another language, to jump. Despite the interruption the silence continued a few moments longer until they came up to Phichit’s chambers.

“I’m excited,” Phichit said, pushing open his door and stepping into the room. “But I’m also worried.”

Yuuri closed the door and leaned back against it, crossing his arms over his chest. “I’m just worried,” he grumbled.

Phichit laughed. “Of course you are.” He slid up to his friend and poked a finger to Yuuri’s forehead. “You need to get out of your own head.”

“Huh?” Yuuri blinked, realizing he had been focusing too intensely on the flow of the shadows in and outside of the room, while agonizing over what he was going to do to prepare during the week.

“It’s so obvious when you’re thinking too hard about something or trying not to let something get to you. You frown so fiercely it looks like you could set a person on fire. Like that woman who poked fun at you and Yuuko. I don’t know if you noticed the way she was trying to disappear when you glowered at her.”

Yuuri scoffed. “I don’t _glower_.”

“You do. A lot. It scares people. I’m sure they burn all their lanterns at night, thinking you’re going to appear in their rooms and silence them.”

Yuuri didn’t know how to respond to that, nor did he know how to fix his problem, so he decided to ignore the topic for the moment.

“Your father said this is the last task he would give me,” he muttered after a moment of quiet.

Phichit was picking through his styled hair with a comb that he kept near his lounging chair.

“I forgot that the end of the three-year agreement was so close.” He rubbed at his arms.

Phichit put his comb down and came to Yuuri’s side, placing a warm hand on his friend’s shoulder. “What do you think you’re going to do afterwards?”

“I . . .” Yuuri faltered and squeezed himself tighter. “I don’t know right now,” he admitted softly.

“That’s okay.” Phichit began to rub small circles on the back of Yuuri’s neck. “You don’t need to know right now. There’s still plenty of time to figure something out, even if it’s just a temporary solution.”

Yuuri gave a weak smile. He wanted to give a murmur of thanks at the comfort, but just as he opened his mouth, he felt a sudden tug from the shadows. Instinctively he lunged forward, pushing Phichit further into the room just as the stone floor shattered, splintered shards of rock surging upwards just where they had been standing.

“Shit,” Phichit cursed, pulling himself off the floor where he had tripped and fallen. “Where are they?”

“West window,” he replied, pulling a kunai out from the waist of his hakama. He kicked away a slab that began to float in anticipation to fling itself at them. With Phichit behind him, he backed up until the Prince’s back hit the door that led to his inner bedroom. “Can you confuse them?”

Sharpened shards began to fly about the room, with no clear target.

“Yes,” Phichit answered shortly, breathless and straining.

Yuuri knew that Phichit likely began casting illusions of them around the room as soon as he had realized what was happening.

“Stay low,” he ordered, then dropped into his shadow and lurched towards the window. The assassin was likely trying to use the sunset behind them as a deterrent to Yuuri’s shadowmancy, but what most people didn’t realize was: wherever there was a bright light, there was a stark shadow nearby.

A slender man stood precariously on a decorative ledge outside of Phichit’s gated window. There was a spiral of stones behind the man – a dubious set of stairs and an escape route. The assassin was sweating profusely and panting, trying desperately to keep his escape up and attack at once.

The shadow the man cast against the stone wall of Kyuu Castle was dark, almost like a beacon.

Yuuri latched onto the shadow and pushed himself through it, throwing his shoulder down into a blind tackle. He felt when his face broke through the shadow step, almost like a slap of heat compared to the rest of his body, which was still in the cool darkness.

“Where the _fuck_ is –”

The assassin was interrupted as Yuuri’s shoulder punched into his gut.

Yuuri could see the panic on the man’s scarred face as he fell with him, the momentum of his tackle bringing him over the edge as well.

The man’s arms flailed about as his makeshift stairway began to swirl around them both, fruitlessly attempting to strike at Yuuri, who had made himself incorporeal, until he managed to make a platform of rocks two stories down.

Yuuri pulled himself into the shadows that lingered between the crevices of the rock platform, while the assassin landed with a pained grunt. Knowing that he must end this encounter soon, since he couldn’t stay in such a transitional space for long, Yuuri gripped his kunai and then flipped it in his hand into a throwing stance. Rising from the rocks at the same time as the assassin, Yuuri pulled his upper half into solidity, sweat breaking across his brow at the severe magical drain.

“How the fuck – but the sun!”

“Makes shadows,” Yuuri answered before he flung his kunai directly into the stomach of the assassin.

Depleted, and concentration finally ripped away from using the dregs of his magic by sheer pain, the stability of the assassin’s platform wavered and then broke. Pieces of rubble fell to the ground and the man went down as well, his eyes rolling back as he lost consciousness.

Yuuri, the pit of his stomach lurching as he began a freefall, threw out a tendril of magic, latching onto the shade of a nearby tree before pulling himself along with the last bit of strength he could muster. He was deposited unceremoniously into the tree’s canopy, one branch caught under his armpits, and another jutted uncomfortably against his knees, giving him just enough purchase to keep him from falling the rest of the way to the ground. His glasses were lost, probably shattered somewhere on the ground.

“What’s happening?” a voice, somewhat far away, yelled.

There were alarmed shouts and barked orders as a contingent of castle guards and a small group of elemental mages known as the fire squad arrived on scene shortly before the assassin’s fall.

“What’s going on? Where did the fire go?” he heard one of the most vocal guards yell. “Who is _this_?”

“Sorry, that’s my fault,” Phichit yelled from his now open window.

Yuuri would’ve laughed if he hadn’t been so tired. Leave it to Phichit to make an illusory fire to alert the castle guards.

“If that man is alive, arrest him!” the Prince ordered, his voice crisp and authoritative, even five stories off the ground. “His crime is attempted assassination of royalty!”

“An assassin!” a member of the fire squad squeaked.

“And someone please retrieve Lord Yuuri from that tree. I believe he is too labored from saving my life to rescue himself.”

Yuuri closed his eyes, his creeping exhaustion taking over. Everything went black.

When he next opened his eyes, he was in his room, Phichit lounging on his favorite feather stuffed sofa.

“Hey, you’re up,” Phichit said cheerfully, setting down a novel that he had been perusing. “It only took an hour this time!”

Yuuri sat up slowly, letting out a stiff grunt as his muscles protested. “I’ve had worse,” he grumbled. “How’s your headache? I heard you decided to take up arson.”

Phichit snorted in amusement. “Just a bit of a nosebleed, otherwise I’ll be fine.” His smile slowly fell into a mournful frown. “I’m sorry you had to go through that again. I honestly shouldn’t be surprised considering it’s been a few months since anyone’s tried to kill me, so I’m sure castle security was getting lax. But again, without you, I would’ve been skewered by my own floor. Thanks, Yuuri.”

“It’s what I’m here for.” He reached for a wooden cup that sat on an end table by his bed and stood to fetch cold water from a basin in the corner. “And I’d do it again, so don’t bother feeling guilty.”

Phichit huffed, likely feeling called out, but said nothing for a minute while Yuuri quenched his thirst. “Well, I can’t wait to see how dangerous Rus is, if my father considers Kyuu to be of relative safety, despite these attempts on my life – I hate to see what he thinks real danger is. You might want to up your workout routine, Yuuri.”

Yuuri groaned. “I hope he’s just paranoid.”

“ _My_ father? Paranoid? Yuuri!” Phichit threw a hand across his forehead dramatically. “You know him so well.”

They shared a laugh before saying their goodnights, Phichit leaving Yuuri’s room with no less than six guards on his heels.

He sighed and flopped back onto his bed. It was time to prepare for the Western Summit.

* * *

Yuuri fastened his cloak around his neck and brushed the knees of his plain travelling pants, checking that he didn’t stand out in his mirror. Phichit was similarly adjusting his hooded cloak by peering over Yuuri’s shoulder.

“Remember not to do anything to draw attention to yourself,” Yuuri nagged, probably for the tenth time in the last ten minutes as they readied themselves for an outing.

“Yes mother,” Phichit said with a roll of his eyes. “I know we’re going to visit your old guildmate. I’m not dumb enough to say, ‘Hi I’m Prince Phichit, whose father has occupied your lovely country, please don’t kill me because I want to be friends!’”

Yuuri shot him a disbelieving look.

“I am _not_ that chatty!”

Yuuri sighed. “Also, please don’t use any illusion magic. Some of the guildmembers are extremely sensitive to mind magics and I’m not . . . entirely sure how they would react to it, to be honest. Most spirits appear through similar channels as mind magic manifests. Best case scenario: they think you’re just another passing spirit. Worst case – I don’t know, someone suffers a mental breakdown because they think they can’t tell the difference between the underworld and reality anymore, and they go berserk.”

Yuuri suppressed a shudder. He had witnessed that very scenario around his eleventh birthday. It was the first time he saw raw, destructive spirit necromancy at work – as well as the first time he saw a person murdered. The screams of the dead that were summoned that day would still haunt him if he thought too hard about it.

“That’s fair, I guess.”

They checked their travel packs in silence.

“Sometimes I really wish my illusions would work on you though,” Phichit lamented suddenly, throwing himself dramatically onto Yuuri’s sitting room sofa, disturbing a half-packed suitcase. “You’re always so in your own head and you have such rigid sensibilities, that sometimes I think you might benefit from a silly prank. You know, try and get you to lower your guard.”

Phichit sighed when Yuuri pulled a rather distressed face. “I don’t know; not to be mean to you or anything. I just care about you and I wish I could get you to open up more.”

Yuuri smoothed a few wrinkles in the packed-up silk garments before shooing Phichit off his suitcase. “I don’t know if hallucinating about little dancing men with painted faces would necessarily help me open up,” he said after a short silence.

Phichit snorted. “I guess we’ll never know.”

“Maybe. I don’t really understand how my shadow magic interferes with yours, but I’m perhaps the slightest bit grateful.” He sat next to Phichit with a small smile, there was still time before they had to leave. Sometimes Yuuri was surprised by how much he enjoyed being around the Prince. Maybe this is what being a friend was really like – wanting to make time for silly conversations like this.

“Well to be honest,” Phichit started, a look of concentration crossing his face. “It’s almost like . . . you don’t have an aura. Not – don’t take that badly! I mean it’s like it’s been hidden, and I’m not sure how to find it. Like . . . trying to walk through a dark cave. You can reach out and swipe at nothing, not knowing where the walls are, or what’s on the floor or if there’s anything inside at all. Only someone who already knew what was inside would find it.”

Yuuri’s lips pursed in thought. “Do you think just anyone could figure it out?” he asked, deciding it was probably best he arm himself with as much information about mind magic as he could. Plus, Phichit was an expert in that area. He was considered the best illusionist to be born in the Ayattuma Empire in the last four hundred years.

Phichit rubbed his chin. “Hm. Well, sometimes there are cases of people with strong mind magics that bypass just about any barrier by taking advantage of their target’s memories. Usually an extraordinarily strong one and typically traumatic. And since you’re the singularly most secretive person I know – high praise, considering I was raised surrounded by two-faced nobles – I doubt you’re going to have much of an issue.”

“That does make me feel better,” he said, turning to Phichit with small, sly smile, “Considering you just told me I don’t have a soul.”

“I said don’t take it the wrong way! I just meant that your aura can’t be found – Yuuri, are you laughing at me? I thought you were actually offended, how dare you!”

Yuuri covered his smile with his hand, leaning against his chamber door as he shook in silent laughter.

Phichit sniffed at him in mock anger. “I can’t believe you’d try and hurt me in this way,” he whined, dramatic and whimsical, but unable to keep a silly grin off his face.

Eventually Yuuri collected himself and slung his pack over his shoulder. “I think we’ve had enough fun for today,” he mumbled affectionately as he made his way to open the door. “I hope you’re up for a few hours walk.”

“I’m sure it’ll be perfectly grueling, but I’ll be alright.”

And grueling it was. For Phichit anyway.

“Are you sure you don’t need another break?” Yuuri asked, walking steadily next to Phichit, who was breathing heavily. “We still have about an hour left and the sun is still high, we’ll be okay if we stop for a little now.”

Phichit, looking disgruntled and sweaty under his hood, grimaced. “Did you really walk this far when you were a kid? I mean, I’m not exactly out of shape, but this is. . .” Phichit huffed and wiped at his brow. “It’s a bit much.”

“Well I didn’t make it in four hours on my first hike,” he said, leading Phichit over to a flat rock for a brief rest. He took a bag of steamed buns, still warm from Yuuko’s stovetop, and a skin of water, handing them to the Prince. “It took almost all day, actually, and when I finally did arrive. Well, let’s just say I was punished for my tardiness.”

Phichit cocked his head to the side. “How old were you?” he asked before taking a bite of a bun.

Yuuri hesitated. He adjusted his cloak a few times and then said, “Eight.”

“Oh. Well, I can’t imagine they did anything too harsh to someone that young, yeah?”

Yuuri worried at his lower lip. He could still remember the way Queen Hisa’s sharp, heeled shoes had dug into his cheekbone as she stepped on his face, hissing insults as she pivoted her foot for good measure. Part of him wanted to tell Phichit. How bad it had been – how sometimes, even now, it followed him around like a buzzing fly in his ear.

Seeing the Prince’s face crease into a frown, he clammed up. Phichit had enough to worry about, he reminded himself. It was his job to alleviate some of that worry through protection – he couldn’t burden his friend with the unfairness of his childhood horrors.

“No,” he finally murmured. “Not as bad as it could have been.”

After that, all conversation dried up and they focused on getting to their destination as quickly as they could without over exhausting Phichit.

The Kyuu Guild of Necromancy was a low building, half of which was built into a mound that had once been a burial site. Yuuri knew that most of the guild’s rooms were in basements, making it much larger than the deceptive size outside.

“Oh, from what I can see, it has a very nice garden!” Phichit chittered as they approached.

“All the plants are poisonous in some form, so try not to enter without a guide,” Yuuri warned, unsure if Phichit would attempt to frolic through the garden without letting someone know first.

“How . . . quaint.” Phichit shifted a tad closer to Yuuri.

The front doors were made of old, partially rotted oak wood, with a brass door knocker that had been shaped into the bust of a beautiful woman. Yuuri grabbed the ring, fashioned to look like a necklace around the woman’s neck and knocked three times.

“That’s . . . actually pretty. I was expecting a kind of ghoul or, well, something creepy.”

“It’s supposed to be Izanami, the goddess of death.”

Phichit frowned. “Oh.”

The doors creaked open, revealing the spotted face of the Guildmaster. “Young Yuuri,” he greeted with a rasp, fully opening the doors and stepping back to let them in. “Kenjirou mentioned that you would be visiting with a . . . friend.”

The Guildmaster stared at Phichit, blinking uncomfortably slow.

Yuuri tensed. He knew that look. It was one that told him the Guildmaster knew something problematic and he was debating how to broach the subject.

“You might want to conceal your friend’s aura,” he said at last. “The . . . spirits recognize him.”

Before Yuuri could ask how or what he was supposed to do, the Guildmaster was already wheezing in a deep breath to begin his explanation. “Imagine throwing a . . . hm – a blanket over him. Cover him with shadow. You can already do this . . . though it might be unconscious.”

They spent a few extra minutes in the welcome hall as Yuuri practiced hiding Phichit’s aura under the watchful eye of the Guildmaster, who despite everything, took his role as a teacher seriously, while Phichit tried not to squirm as the damp sensation of shadow magic pressed against him repeatedly.

It was strange to feel like a student again, but Yuuri was grateful for it when he managed to completely conceal Phichit’s aura and do so without hesitation.

“Young Kenjirou is waiting for you in . . .” the Guildmaster paused in thought. “I believe in his Silent Room.”

“Okay,” Yuuri mumbled, giving a short inclination of his head before pulling Phichit into the building by his sleeve.

Phichit walked stiffly behind Yuuri, plainly nervous.

Yuuri spared him a comforting glance, but continued steadily down the green-lit hallways, moving with years of familiarity, while Phichit could hardly tell which way they had arrived from.

The hall that Yuuri chose after a few turns, began to slope downwards, the spirit-fire torches growing more and more dim as they went, giving a claustrophobic feel.

“One moment,” Yuuri whispered once they reached a door at the very end of the sloped hall.

Yuuri watched as Phichit nodded and planted his feet. He had an uncomfortable look on his face, more so when he watched Yuuri simply fade away.

Bypassing the door by shadow melding through the crack underneath, Yuuri pulled himself out of the shadows on the inside of the room. Without hesitation he turned and swung open the door.

Yuuri motioned for Phichit to step inside and then closed the door behind them.

The room was brightly lit by several lanterns that hung from the ceiling, as well as a crackling orange fire that sat under a large, bubbling cauldron in the center. Dried plants hung from the stone walls by strings, separated by their parts: flowers, stems, leaves, and roots.

Minami sat at a long table that crowded the back corner of the room. He held a star-shaped, glass pendant in his hands and he looked to be peering at the wall through it.

“Minami,” Yuuri greeted once they were both inside and the door was shut securely. He gave a bow. “Thank you for meeting us.”

Before Phichit could step forward for a handshake, Yuuri motioned for him to stop.

Minami looked up at them with bright, honey-brown eyes and a gentle smile. Considering the only people Phichit had ever met with ties to necromancy were Yuuri and now the Guildmaster, he was rather astonished at the young man’s kindly disposition.

“This is Prince Phichit. I’m still under guard duty, but he’s a good person, so you don’t have to be careful.” When Phichit hesitated, Yuuri tried to comfort him by saying, “This is a Silent Room. It’s enchanted to prevent any sound from ever escaping when the door is shut, so no one can overhear our conversation. Most members use them as practice rooms, but they make good meeting rooms, too.”

Minami brushed his bleached blond hair away from his forehead and sighed. “Okay.” He stood and a look of consternation crossed his face as he stepped towards Phichit. He held out his hand palm up.

Phichit gave him a look of bewilderment before turning to Yuuri for an explanation.

“Is this not right?” Minami asked, looking at his hand in confusion. “Yuuri, didn’t you say in your letters that people now held hands for a greeting?”

There was an awkward air in the room as both of the Kyuunan men stared at each other in confusion; one wondering why the other was bothering to learn foreign customs, and the other silently demanding if he had made a fool of himself.

Yuuri could see the way Phichit tried to hold back the small, almost nervous, giggle that bubbled up his throat. Phichit tried to bite it down but ended up snorting and Yuuri could feel himself pale. The quirky sound in the strangled silence unleashed a round of howling laughter from the Prince.

“Phi – Phichit!” Yuuri flew to his side, trying to find a way to calm his friend down, short of covering Phichit’s mouth with his hands. “Don’t be rude,” he hissed.

“I – I’m sorry,” Phichit wheezed out, wiping at his eyes where tears of mirth were beginning to form. “I just – I mean this place was so tense and freaky and then he – thank you. It was very nice of you to try and accommodate me like that, Minami.”

He stepped forward and took Minami’s hand and shook it vigorously. “I’m Phichit Chulanont, it’s so nice to formally meet you. Yuuri’s spoken about you a few times, but you know him, very stingy with his secrets.”

Minami guffawed, surprising both Phichit and Yuuri. “Oh! Yes! Yuuri tells me nothing of importance in his letters, despite that they are Blood-Letters and no one else could read them even if they tried.”

“They could if they had a drop of our blood,” Yuuri interjected, grumpy.

“I sincerely doubt they could.” Minami shrugged. “Anyway, Your Highness, feel free to call me Kenjirou. Yuuri enjoys being stuffy and formal, so he calls me Minami, but you don’t have to.”

Phichit smiled, the small cord of tension in his shoulders finally snapping loose and relaxing. “I feel like we could be great friends, Kenjirou. Call me Phichit when no one who can get angry is around. I basically had to write that into Yuuri’s oath for him to call me that.”

Yuuri grimaced as his two friends chatted together for a few minutes. He noticed the amulet on the table in the corner where Minami had set it down during their greetings. Gingerly, he picked it up and examined it, allowing the small tingle of magic that emanated from the glass to drift over his fingers.

“Is this it?” Yuuri asked, interrupting Phichit and Minami’s conversation, and held out the amulet.

Minami nodded enthusiastically. “Yes! It just needs some finishing touches and the enchantment should be perfect.” He bounced over to Yuuri and grabbed a small golden vile. “I have all the ingredients ready, just let me know when you want to start the ritual.”

Phichit blinked. “Ritual?” he asked, once again looking overwhelmed.

Yuuri cocked his head, taking Phichit in for a long, quiet moment while Minami busied himself by rearranging items on the table. “Does necromancy scare you?” he finally asked, voice quiet.

“I . . . I guess a little. I’ve never really thought about until now, honestly.”

Minami hummed an understanding tune. “I get it. It’s not a very popular magic and there are a lot of weird fairytales about it.” He laid a red velvet cloth on the table and placed the amulet on top. “Personally, I’m terrified of soul-seers. Could you imagine having someone’s thoughts in your head? Or someone examining your soulbond – isn’t that supposed to be extremely private and intimate?”

“That’s a pretty rare mind magic,” Phichit murmured. “I haven’t met a soul-seer strong enough to hear people's thoughts, but most tend to have an acute level of empathy since they can judge moods based on how your emotions reflect in your aura – that’s if they know you well enough to know how your aura is when you’re calm, at least.”

Minami smiled, a look of relief crossing his face. “Necromancy is sort of the same,” he said. “Most aren’t capable of doing anything more than speaking with passing spirits or they can make poisons more effective. Besides the Guildmaster and myself, Yuuri probably has the next strongest necromantic potential in our guild.”

“I suppose that’s true,” Yuuri admitted, embarrassed. “Shadowmancy is a branch of necromancy, but it’s unique in the way that it doesn’t require a strong connection to the underworld, while spirit magic, vampiric magic, and death magic do.”

“There’s more than one kind of necromancy?” Phichit asked, dumbfounded. “I thought it was all the same.”

“Of course not!” Minami exclaimed. “That’s like saying all mind magic is illusions!”

Phichit scoffed at that idea.

“I specialize in vampiric magic. Yeah, I can manipulate blood like a water mage does to water and ice, but it’s also super useful for enchantments that need to be specific to a person, or to make poisons more potent; but if you work hard enough, it can be reverse engineered for healing. It’s extremely useful.”

“Oh! I didn’t expect that,” Phichit admitted.

“Most spooky stories revolve around death magic – Yuuri can show you some, he has a pretty decent talent for it.” Minami moved across the room to a set of stone shelves and retrieved a flat wooden box.

Yuuri grimaced. “I didn’t really delve into it though,” he said, watching as Minami opened the box and retrieved a little black pouch. “My focus was obviously elsewhere.”

Minami dumped the contents of the pouch onto the table. An assortment of tiny, sun-bleached bones scattered on the tabletop. “Mouse skeleton collected from owl pellets,” he explained briskly as he gathered them into a pile in front of Yuuri. “Why don’t you do that spell from when we were kids?”

“I . . . guess I could,” Yuuri grumbled, searching Phichit’s face anxiously. He didn’t want to scare his friend, or make the Prince think less of him because of this. After Phichit gave him an encouraging nod, Yuuri sighed and turned back to Minami, saying, “You do the music.”

Minami began to hum a triumphant sounding tune, his hands tapping out a steady beat on the table.

Yuuri muttered an incantation under his breath, twirling his first two fingers towards the pile of bones. After a few beats they began to twitch, then slowly started to assemble until they were an anatomically correct mouse. The tiny skeleton began to do a dance, kneeling and standing. Its arms twisted around its body, then it swung about a little twig that Minami provided after a few moments.

“That’s from a kabuki – like a theater piece – called _We Held the Hill_.” Yuuri smiled indulgently for a second. “It was the first time Minami or I saw performers. They had camped near the guild one night when we were kids and gave us a free show because they said they needed to do a practice run before performing at the castle the next day.”

“It was definitely worth the punishment for sneaking out,” Minami said with a sigh.

Phichit looked flabbergasted. As if he couldn’t decide if he was impressed, scared, or confused. “Yuuri,” he started, rubbing at his cheek in thought, as he tended to do when he was thinking about something that made him uncomfortable. “You can animate skeletons?” he asked at last, his voice betrayed a small tremble.

“Only very tiny ones,” Yuuri answered, deciding that the best way to comfort Phichit was to be open and honest. A difficult task for him. “I can’t do it to human skeletons or anything. I can only do mice. An in-depth understanding of the creature’s anatomy is needed to exert any type of control over them.” He shrugged. “The most I could do to a person is . . . probably make a corpse’s hand twitch? Maybe grab something if I tried really hard. I never have, though.”

“I hate to say that I’m relieved to hear it, but I am.” He crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair. “Well, at the very least I can say that even if you could, I wouldn’t hate you or anything. It’s just . . . creepy.”

Yuuri smiled. “I don’t think there has been a master of death magic in Kyuu for. . .” he cast a glance at Minami. “Has it been three generations?”

“Two, I think.”

“So, there’s nothing to worry about here. Yeah?”

Phichit nodded, finally giving them a small smile.

“Well, that was a fun distraction!” Minami enthused, clapping his hands together. “But I think we need to get to the ritual. It won’t take long, but I don’t want you escorting the Prince home after the sun sets.”

Yuuri helped Minami clear the table of anything that was unnecessary to the ritual, then sat himself down across from his childhood friend, the amulet and golden vial set between them.

Phichit sat at the other end of the table, watching the process with both curiosity and trepidation.

“Your hand, please,” Minami said, holding out his hand.

Yuuri placed his hand into Minami’s, his palm facing upwards.

Minami began to recite incantations in a language Phichit couldn’t understand, even though they had been speaking Kyuunan the entire time. The blond alternately touched Yuuri’s hand, the glass amulet, and the vile, before reaching for a small decorative knife.

He set the thin blade against Yuuri’s palm, still chanting, before pressing it into the flesh and drawing up a thick bead of blood. Setting the knife down, Minami waved his hand as if beckoning someone forward. The blood from Yuuri’s hand began to pull upwards and moved towards the mouth of the golden vial.

They sat in tense silence, Yuuri’s blood droplets trickled into the vial, a short minute later the contents of the vial began to glow a soft lavender.

“This is it,” Minami breathed, looking tired. He coaxed the mixture out of the vial and poured it into the hollow mouth of the amulet and stopped it with a wax covered cork, then wrapped it in a thin, gold chain to prevent it from being opened.

The amulet, once clear, was now a light purple in color, shining softly only when one took the time to closely examine it.

Minami then clasped the amulet onto a braided gold chain, thicker than the one used to decorate the stopper, but still thin enough that it would be easy to break the links in an emergency. “It’s done,” he said, handing the necklace to Yuuri. “The enchantment will be set off when the glass breaks. Please tell Mari to be extra careful. It won’t shatter as easily as normal glass animals, but it _is_ made to be broken.”

Yuuri took the amulet and squeezed it in his hand. The familiarity of his shadow magic caressed his palm. “Thank you, Minami,” he said with a smile. “Let me know how I can repay the favor.”

“Call me Kenjirou.”

“Something else.”

Minami laughed, the three of them standing to begin giving their farewells. “You never change, Yuuri,” he giggled. “And I never want you to, so don’t worry. If I ever need something, I’ll let you know – or if there’s a way you can . . .” he spread his arms out and motioned to the room around them, “You know – just think of me, okay?”

“I will,” Yuuri promised sternly. They had always talked about their escape since they were children. Now that Yuuri had his freedom, he resolved never to let Minami be left behind, which was a difficult task, considering how vital Minami’s skills were in making the guild money.

“Thank you,” Minami breathed.

Phichit, who didn’t know about their childhood pact, cleared his throat. “It’s about time we take our leave, Kenjirou. Thank you for hosting us – and for helping Yuuri.”

Minami bowed to them. “Of course. I need to nap now, though. It might’ve looked like an easy spell, but it really took a lot of magic to make it as potent as it was. Otherwise, I’d happily walk you to the door.”

Yuuri also gave a bow. “Thank you, Minami. Rest well.”

After exchanging their farewells, Yuuri escorted Phichit out of the Guild and they started their trek back to the castle. Yuuri pulled Phichit’s hood slightly further down his forehead. “Thank you for coming with me,” he said after a moment of thought. “I didn’t stop to think you might’ve been nervous. I apologize.”

Phichit waved his hand as if he could knock the apology out of the air. “It’s fine. Actually, I think it was a good experience for me. I don’t think I realized how prejudiced against necromancy I was until I walked into that building. And then meeting Minami, being all bright and silly and bleached hair – I think I had forgotten that while a person might attune to a certain kind of magic, it doesn’t necessarily dictate what kind of person they will be.” He grinned sheepishly at Yuuri. “So really, _I_ should be thanking _you_.”

Yuuri didn’t fight the small smile that made its way onto his face. “Alright, then,” he murmured. “You’re welcome.”

There was one more thing he had to attend to before their trip. Yuuri took a deep breath of fresh air. He could do this.

* * *

It had been a bit of a hassle, but Yuuri had managed to convince Phichit, and at least seven guards that were willing to fill in for him, to let him travel to Hasetsu Estates alone for part of the day. It was the final day before they were to board _The Nami Maru_ – the largest ship Yuuri ever saw or even dreamed up. It was as if it were a floating castle.

It was a two-hour carriage ride to the coast where Hasetsu mansion lay, overlooking several pools of hot springs that welled up from underneath the mountainous terrain. The ocean was an hour’s walk from the mansion’s front gate, though it was not close enough that he could hear the crash of waves from his bedroom window, no matter how he had tried to over the course of his childhood.

His mother and father met him at the gate, holding hands and chatting to themselves as they waited. They were the very picture of tranquility and tender love. Growing up, Yuuri had found his parents to be unnerving; by the way they could take things in stride and face adversity with smiles on their faces. He’d grown accustomed to their gentle ways during the past three years, and now he found them adorable, even if a little overwhelming with their affections.

“Yuuri!” his mother greeted, enthusiastically wrapping her short arms around his middle before he could properly lower himself from the carriage step. “It is such a treat to see you today! Is the Prince not with you?” she asked, scanning the empty carriage behind him.

“Not today,” he said, squeezing her shoulders with affection. “He has some lectures on the goals of the Western Summit so he couldn’t leave the castle. It took a lot of convincing for me to come today, so I only have a few hours to spend before I have to return to my duties and pack for our trip to Rus.”

His mother breathed a small sigh of disappointment but smiled at him.

Duchess Hiroko Katsuki was a small, round woman with kind eyes and a soft, tinkling laugh. Every time he would visit, Phichit would come with gifts of tea, candies, and table ornaments. Then, Phichit would lavish his mother with adoration, claiming she should be the mother of the world for how maternal and kind she was. Personally, Yuuri found it embarrassing, but his mother delighted in it, so he never said anything.

He pushed a small wrapped box into his mother’s hands. “Phichit found a newly popular flavor of tea from the Ayattuma capital and he says he hopes that you enjoy it.”

“Oh, that little charmer,” his mother said with an amused sigh. “He’ll be missed today, but all the same I am so happy to see you, dear.”

Yuuri pat her hand. “You too,” he mumbled, embarrassed.

Soon his father was with them, escorting them into the estate with a jovial air. Toshiya was over a head taller than his mother. It’s where Yuuri got his height, which was considerably tall for Kyuu natives. He had been rather devastated to hear in other countries, especially on the western continent, he would be considered short – maybe average in height.

“Mari is waiting for us in the parlor,” his father said, pressing his hand on Yuuri’s back. “We had katsudon prepared as soon as we knew you were coming to visit. Thought it would be nice to have a hometown favorite before eating Ruish cuisine for a few weeks.”

Yuuri hadn’t thought about that. What did they eat in Rus? He heard that the empire was in a colder climate, so perhaps they had a lot of soups and broths? “Thank you,” he told his father after he realized he’d gotten side-tracked. “That’s thoughtful of you.”

“It was Mari’s idea,” Toshiya said, opening the front doors to the mansion, despite a nearby butler insisting on doing it instead. “My two arms and legs still serve me yet,” he had said, gently sending the butler away with a wave of his hand. “I continue to live a life under my own power, but I thank you.”

The parlor was near the entrance of the mansion. Over the years the tatami mats had been replaced with rugs and some heavier furniture brought in. Yuuri couldn’t say that he disliked the small changes, but he was grateful that the half of the mansion beyond the central courtyard remained preserved.

Mari knelt on a fluffed pillow in the center of the parlor, ignoring the desks and chairs in the room for the familiarity of a low table. She held a long, red pipe in one hand, from which she occasionally pulled a mouthful of smoke; in the other she held a pamphlet that Yuuri guessed was likely to be poetry.

“Thank you for waiting on us,” Hiroko said brightly, taking a seat next to Mari and patting the arm that held her pipe.

“Of course,” Mari said, setting the pamphlet face down onto the table. She watched as Yuuri sat down across from her, unable to ease into the comfort of his kneeling position as he normally would. “Getting too used to chairs, Yuuri?” she teased quietly. There was no bite to her words, and her face remained mostly impassive, apart from a smirk that curled around the tip of her pipe.

Yuuri grimaced but quickly settled in at the table. “I heard you were the one to suggest we have katsudon today.”

“I might have,” she answered, still smirking. “No one can say I don’t take care of you when you’re here.”

They descended into idle chatter as the head butler brought in their tea, followed shortly by their lunch. It was pleasant and intimate, unlike mealtimes at Kyuu Castle. Often Yuuri found himself yearning for these quiet lunches and dinners, but he also feared the responsibility of returning to Hasetsu permanently.

He sighed.

“Is something the matter, Yuuri?” his mother asked, reaching over to take one of his hands into her own.

Her hands were so soft that Yuuri marveled at them for a moment. “I’m alright,” he said, giving Hiroko’s hand a squeeze. “Oh, but Mari, I did get you a gift, when you have a moment to receive it.”

Toshiya and Hiroko exchanged a glance and almost immediately they both began to stand from the table.

“Oh my, I forgot that I promised your father a walk through the gardens today,” his mother tittered, moving to thread her arm around her husband’s. “It would be a shame if we didn’t go before the sun sets.”

“True, true, dear. Mari, Yuuri, I hope you take some time to chat before Yuuri’s big trip. You might end up missing one another more than you anticipate.”

Mari snorted but nodded anyway. “I’m sure,” she said, motioning for Yuuri to sit with her further in the room on a pair of cream-colored lounge chairs. “So, what do you have for me that you couldn’t give to me in front of our parents?” she asked as she sprawled across her lounger, her head nearly dangling off the back of the armrest.

Yuuri took a little pouch from the breast pocket of his travel shirt and gingerly pulled out the necklace that Minami made.

“What’s this?” Mari asked softly as she held out her hand.

Yuuri dropped the necklace into her palm, the chain coiling around the amulet with small clinking noises as it fell. “It’s a necklace of protection,” he explained, moving to sit on his own lounger. “If you’re ever in dire need, break this amulet and I’ll immediately come to your side through a shadow portal.”

Mari clasped her fingers around the necklace and drew it closer to her chest. “I can feel your magic on it,” she muttered, closing her eyes in concentration. “It’s enchanted?”

“Heavily,” he confirmed.

“Hm. Can you explain exactly what it does?”

Yuuri leaned back and rubbed at his eyes under his glasses, then he took them off and set them on a nearby table that held a lantern. He didn’t need glasses – not since he was a child. Queen Hisa and the Guildmaster had seen to it that his sight was eventually cured through repetitive, and controversial, use of both vampiric and water magic. He chose to wear them now since they were familiar for his mother and father. It also gave him an impression of weakness, of which he liked to take advantage.

“At its most basic,” he said, looking up at the ceiling, “if you break the glass, a strong compulsion spell will be cast on me, immediately forcing me to go to your side by the quickest means necessary. Once there, I will use all my power to rescue you or eliminate any perceived threat towards you. At that point you’ll have to tell me you’re safe. When you do, I’ll probably pass out for a day or so, depending on how much energy I used.”

Mari pulled the necklace over her head, the chain catching on some of her wavy brown hair that had been pulled into a casual ponytail for the day. She rubbed her finger along the glass before she tucked it away under her kimono. “Why go through so much trouble?”

Yuuri frowned, unsure himself. He had just felt. . . compelled. “I’m not really sure,” he said honestly. “I think I don’t like the idea of being so far away from Kyuu.” He pressed his fingers to his temples and rubbed vigorously. “I mean, I don’t have a _problem_ leaving Kyuu itself. I just think I need assurance that you’ll be okay. I know you’re a pretty capable air mage, but something keeps nagging at my mind. That’s all.”

“You could just say you’re worried about me. As either the future Crown Princess, or as your sister. Both are suitable excuses.”

Yuuri huffed and crossed his arms. “I guess I’m just worried about you, although I’m not sure you deserve it anymore.”

Mari laughed, slow and deep.

How Yuuri wished he had her calm and meticulous countenance.

“Thank you, Yuuri,” she said with her cocky smirk. “I’ll wear it at all times. Even if I don’t use it –”

“And I hope you never do."

“It has your magic on it, so it’ll always be here to remind me of my awkward little brother who can’t be honest about his feelings without great difficulty.”

Yuuri sighed in defeat. “At least I tried,” he grumbled.

“And I thank you for it.”

They stayed to chat a little longer, going over Yuuri’s itinerary for his trip and Mari gave him a list of things he had to make sure to pack before leaving.

Eventually they joined their parents in the central courtyard, enjoying another cup of tea as they admired the gardens.

Yuuri tried to soak up as much of the contented feeling that visiting his family brought, as he wasn’t sure when he’d feel this way again. He had no idea what was waiting for him and Phichit in the Empire of Rus, but he knew he must go prepared.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My goal is weekly updates. :)
> 
> I hope everything is formatted correctly.


	3. Chapter 3

_The Nami Maru_ swayed in the tumultuous ocean waters. Yuuri held onto the ladder that led to the crow’s nest, trying to center himself. There was still a day left to their ocean voyage, though it couldn’t be over soon enough. It had been extremely inconvenient to learn, on their first night aboard, that he was prone to seasickness.

Phichit set a hand on his shoulder, staring at a group of three water mages who stood at the stern of the ship, working in tandem to magically propel the behemoth ship forward at an unnatural pace.

The mages worked on a scheduled shift; three groups of three, switching places every three hours. Yuuri wondered if perhaps three was the King’s favorite number, or if it was lucky – he wasn’t sure, but he did find it strange.

“I am _so_ bored,” Phichit groaned in Ruish. The moment they had boarded, Phichit had demanded they spoke in only Ruish to further prepare themselves for the summit. “Yuuri, why did no one tell us that being on a boat for so long would be this awful? Even the trip to Kyuu wasn’t nearly this bad.”

Yuuri breathed in through his nose, attempting to quell the rollicking in his stomach. He wanted to mention how, without the aid of magic, this trip would take nearly two months rather than a week.

“Trick a seagull into diving at the Captain,” he said with a grimace.

Phichit sighed in exasperation. “Yuuri that only works once! He’d know it was me if I did it again!” He patted Yuuri’s shoulder forcefully. “Be more creative!”

“You’re going to make me vomit.” Yuuri burped and covered his mouth with his hand. “Just end me.”

Ignoring him, Phichit’s gaze wandered about the deck. “I’ve hardly seen Lady Chau. She seemed to be doing alright yesterday. I bet she’s bored, too. I can’t believe we have another day of this torture.” He ran a hand through his black hair. “Maybe she’ll want to practice her Ruish with us, what do you think?”

Yuuri nodded, desperate to not open his mouth until the worst of the nausea passed.

As if summoned, Lady Chau entered the deck from the doors leading to the cabins. She was a quiet and petite woman, with midnight black hair and skin as white as porcelain. Even Yuuri, who was accustomed to being complimented for his fair skin complexion, felt tanned next to her. Neither Yuuri nor Phichit knew why she had been chosen as the representative for Viama. The only things she had been known for were being rather pretty and extremely rich.

At the very least, Yuuri supposed, she wouldn’t become an obstacle to anything Phichit decided in the end.

“Hello,” she greeted in heavily accented Ruish. Chau opened a red and gold paper parasol and twirled the handle between her hands. “What a beautiful day.”

Phichit released Yuuri’s shoulder to move to Lady Chau’s side. They linked arms and began to stroll about the deck, ocean spray occasionally misting them as they chatted and stretched their legs.

Yuuri took the chance to go back to his cabin. He had covered the small window with a blanket to prevent the sight of the ocean’s jagged waves. Wetting a cloth in a near-empty water basin, he laid it across his eyes and lounged on his bed.

What he wouldn’t give to be able to sprint down the mountainside at the Hasetsu mansion right now. Or climb to the forest canopy behind the Guild. He’d happily give a large sum of money just to spar with one of Kyuu Castle’s samurai guards. His limbs ached from disuse when he was accustomed to a very strict exercise routine – and he thought he might’ve put on a little weight around his stomach, despite the fact that he could hardly eat a bite without fighting to keep it down.

He wasn’t sure how long he laid in his room, attempting to meditate by mentally following the ebb and flow of the shadows in his cabin, but a sharp knock on his door startled him out of a half-sleep. He pulled the near-dry rag from his face, tossing it in the direction of his water basin before rolling out of bed.

“Lord Yuuri? Are you awake?”

Yuuri was surprised to hear the soft voice of Lady Chau, and not the sound of Phichit busting his door down in enthusiasm.

“Yes,” he said, quickly moving to open his door.

Lady Chau stood at the threshold of his room, her stance somewhat uncomfortable and her black eyes sparkling with what looked like unshed tears – that, or she had just finished crying.

“Is . . . something the matter?” he asked tentatively, slipping into Ayattuman without thinking.

She looked relieved at the more familiar language and gave Yuuri a small bow. “May I come in? I don’t mean to seem inappropriate, but there are no private sitting rooms on this ship. Quite the design flaw, I think.”

Yuuri glanced back at his cabin with a grimace. The rag was still on the floor and he could’ve sworn that the room still had a background scent of vomit from a few days ago.

Despite his hesitation, Lady Chau didn’t move – if anything she began to look more determined, so he relented with a sigh.

She stepped into his room and took the only chair in the room; a rather uncomfortable, stiff-backed, wooden affair, before settling her closed parasol across her lap, her hands clasped above it.

Yuuri closed the door softly, then sat on his bed, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees, his chin in his hands. “May I ask why such a private conversation is needed?”

Lady Chau nodded. She reached into one of her billowing sleeves and took out a small, purple envelope. “I want you to take this,” she said, her hand trembling as she held it out to him. “It was given to me by Countess Ngo Thi Hoa of Viama.”

Yuuri took the envelope from Lady Chau, his brows furrowing heavily as a familiar scent reached his nose. “Lady Chau, is this hemlock?” he asked, incredulous. He was certain of it, considering he had been trained alongside Minami to identify scores of different poisons by their scent, taste, and skin reaction.

“I . . . I don’t know. If that’s a poison, then yes.” She let out a long, shaky breath. “Countess Ngo wanted me to give this to Prince Phichit.” Her eyes began to glisten once again with tears, her pink stained lips quivering. “I took it, but I can’t do as she asked.”

Setting the envelope to the side, Yuuri leaned closer to Lady Chau – he must’ve been glowering, as Phichit liked to call it, based on the way she flinched when she tried to make eye contact with him.

“Why not?” he asked, his hand habitually moving to his calf where he had a kunai hidden.

Seemingly grateful for the chance to explain herself, Lady Chau’s shoulders relaxed a fraction. “My father has a great respect for the Ayattuma Empire,” she said, voice feeble. “He believes that Viama is better under their influence, and that our Kingdom will continue to flourish as part of their commonwealth alliance. If . . . if something were to happen to the Prince and the Summit failed . . . if it were _my_ fault – I don’t think my father would ever forgive me. I couldn’t live with myself if he hated me.”

“Why accept the poison at the start, then?”

Lady Chau bit her lower lip. “I didn’t know how to tell her no,” she admitted, flushing a light pink color. “She made it sound like it was imperative that I do this – or . . . or _else_.”

Yuuri moved his hand away from his leg and leaned back. Thinking about it, he wasn’t surprised that Lady Chau would be approached in such a manner. She wasn’t particularly good at or entrenched in politics; she was also rather simple and trusting. He doubted she would even know how to rebuff such a bold threat without someone trying to follow through.

“That’s . . . unfortunate,” he mumbled. Yuuri picked up the envelope again, examining it to make sure the seal on the paper was intact. “I’m sure you brought this to me because you’re afraid of what will happen if she finds out you _didn’t_ do what she wanted.”

“I . . . yes. I’m scared for my father. If she hears that Prince Phichit didn’t die before any agreements are made at the Summit, she’ll hurt him before I can even return home.”

“What was her plan? I need you to tell me everything she said.” Satisfied that it was properly closed, he set the envelope back down. “After that we’ll talk to Prince Phichit about our next steps.”

She buried her face in her hands. “I had hoped he’d never find out!” She gave a small sniff, then lifted her head. “But I understand. Um. The Countess wanted me to put the powder in a hot drink or soup when no one was looking – or pay a servant to do it. All I know about her is that she is opposed to Ayattuma’s rule in Viama and so she’s always fighting with Father. Saying we shouldn’t have a puppet King of Viama, but to return to our original bloodline.”

Yuuri nodded absently as Lady Chau began to ramble about what little she understood of Viama’s political landscape. He knew Phichit rather liked Lady Chau, so he hoped his friend wouldn’t be too disappointed in this near betrayal.

Phichit, to his credit, took it all in stride. In fact, Yuuri thought Phichit looked as if he had been expecting something like this to happen.

He wished that Phichit wouldn’t have to feel that everyone would eventually betray him. However, given his position as Prince of a Kingdom that was renowned for conquering other, smaller kingdoms, it was inevitable.

Yuuri vowed to never, ever hurt Phichit’s trust in him; even if he were to be the only one in the world that wouldn’t.

“I knew there was a faction of the Viama nobles that were scheming against my father,” Phichit was saying. “I didn’t guess that Countess Ngo would be so bold, however . . . I wonder what she’s thinking?”

Lady Chau gave a slight shrug. “Her son is coming of age soon. I know she sometimes calls him the True Prince.”

Phichit rubbed the side of his face in thought, but then dismissed the conversation with a wave of his hand. “At this point it’s all speculation,” he said, leaning back into his chair.

They were seated at a table in the back of the currently empty mess hall. Which was risky, considering they were on a ship that contained a full company of men, as well as sailors, mages, and servants. They kept their voices low to prevent any echoes, and Phichit kept his awareness open to any other auras in order to send them away with a small trick of the mind. It was imperative that they did not appear to be hiding away or scheming - to show that all was normal.

“I am so very sorry about all of this,” Chau mumbled, wringing her hands together. “I just want you to know that I’ll support you in any decisions that you make.”

Phichit smiled. “It’s alright. I’m going to lie down for a bit – Yuuri can you escort Lady Chau to the deck so she can send the letter?”

Yuuri fought down a grimace. He wasn’t too keen to head back to the deck since that’s where his nausea was at its worst, but at the same time he couldn’t bring himself to deny his friend. “Of course,” he forced himself to say, swallowing to try and keep the queasiness at bay.

Lady Chau took Yuuri by the elbow, walking demurely alongside him. Her hands still had a slight tremble to them, but her face looked more relaxed than it had an hour earlier.

She led him to the bow of the ship, in the shadow of the wheelhouse, and leaned her hip against the railing.

Yuuri always made sure to keep at least three feet between himself and the ledge.

“Have you seen paper enchantment before?” Chau asked politely as she unrolled the scroll that Phichit had composed for his father.

“Hmm. . . I’ve heard of it before – I had a great-great-grandfather that was talented in it. All the paintings in Hasetsu are enchanted to last for at least fifty generations.” He grimaced as his stomach made an uncomfortable flop. “Supposedly.”

With a timid smile, Chau began to fold the parchment. Using her forefinger and thumb, she pinched one end and pulled the paper into a crease while chanting under her breath. She did this several times, the paper hissing against her fingertips, until she was holding a precise origami crane.

“And done,” she said, proudly, holding the crane out on the palm of her hand to show Yuuri.

Yuuri leaned forward to examine the paper bird, curiosity getting the best of him. From what he could see, there was no way he could tell this origami crane apart from any other that he had seen. “How does it work?”

Lady Chau giggled. “You make a wish,” she teased. “Or at least something similar. You give it a command and then breathe life onto it. Watch.”

She brought the message up to her mouth, facing towards the choppy ocean waves. “Fly to His Majesty, King Chulanont of the Ayattuma Empire.” Then she blew, and Yuuri could see the aura of her magic that moved from her mouth to envelope the paper.

Suddenly the crane twitched. Then, flexed its wings. Lady Chau held her hand upwards and the paper crane flittered away over the ocean, occasionally circling about like a falling leaf on a stray wind.

“It will get to him,” she said, gazing after the message as it disappeared over the horizon. “It can’t get wet and it’ll burn anyone who touches it besides the King.”

Yuuri nodded. “It sounds useful,” he tried to compliment.

“No more useful than any other magic,” Chau said with a shrug. “I’m sure my father would have preferred I was adept in a more traditional sect of geomancy, but, well, we cannot change how our souls resonate, I suppose.”

That was a sentiment Yuuri understood too well. He took a step further away from the railing and ran a hand through his hair. “It’s true,” he muttered, but then pressed his hand to his forehead. “I’m sorry Lady Chau, but I’ll have to retire to my room now. I, uh . . .”

“Oh! Yes, His Highness mentioned that you did not take well to the sea. Please, rest. I will have a short walk before returning to my room as well.”

Grimacing at the fact that his seasickness was becoming a topic of gossip, Yuuri simply nodded at the conclusion of their conversation and left. He had to remind himself that there was only one night left – he needed to get as much rest as he could so that he could focus on Phichit’s safety as soon as they were docked in Ruish port.

Yuuri held his hand over his mouth when his stomach squeezed at the top of a particularly tall wave. He never wanted to be on a boat again.

* * *

Yuuri heaved a breath of relief once he, Lady Chau, and Phichit stepped out of their carriage. The trip to Rus had been long and arduous for Yuuri. Already nauseous from their six-day boat voyage, they had then added a day and a half in a carriage to the center of Rus’s capital, St. Petersburg, where the Winter Palace loomed over every other building within miles.

A group of elite soldiers from Ayattuma, Kyuu, and Viama had escorted them into the capital, and only four had remained with them to escort them to gates of palace, where they would be met by their new Rusi guards. He was uneasy trusting foreigners to their protection, but he knew it wasn't an option if they wanted to take part in the Summit.

“A shadow portal would have been less taxing,” Yuuri murmured, stepping up to Phichit’s shoulder, not only to whisper where no one else might hear, but also to keep himself in the mindset of a guard. Now that they were here – and his head was finally clear from nausea – he couldn’t take a single chance with Phichit’s safety. If King Chulanont believed Rus to be dangerous, then there must have been a grain of truth to his suspicions.

Phichit, none the worse, much to Yuuri’s annoyance, smiled jovially. “But then I would’ve had to spend an entire week at sea without you! That’s just unacceptable! No one is nearly as entertaining as you are, Lord Yuuri.”

“I guess,” Yuuri grumbled. One of his hands smoothed over the waistline of his hakama, habitually checking that at least one concealed kunai was in place.

“I mean, just imagine how _bored_ I would’ve been if I didn’t have the chance to make fun of you whenever you threw up overboard?”

Yuuri did his best not to respond, knowing that even a flinch would set Phichit off into a tirade of good-natured jabs that Yuuri would be incapable of rebuking without burning from embarrassment.

Phichit sighed at the lack of response but he casually set his hand on Yuuri’s shoulder and gave a brief squeeze before returning to a more appropriate public distance.

Lady Chau gave them an indulgent look, but otherwise pretended not to notice. Over the past week, she had come to understand their close relationship, sometimes even mentioning how their friendship made her feel a mite envious.

“Either way,” Phichit said as they made their way towards a Rusi escort regiment that was standing at attention by the palace’s crystalline gates. “We’re here now and this is our chance to prove ourselves worthy.” He gave Yuuri a side glance. “I know my father already said this, but Kyuu is counting on you – but what he didn’t say is this: I believe you can do it.”

“Thanks, Phichit,” he whispered just out of the guards’ earshot.

Once they reached a respectable distance, the escorts saluted in unison, their blue and silver armor and tabards clinking and swishing almost as one.

It was a rather intimidating way to be welcomed – with a show of precise, physical might.

Their escort guards stood at attention, unable to wipe the suspicious looks from their faces, while waiting for the transfer to take place before returning to the capital.

Yuuri could perceive the way that Lady Chau stiffened by the way her shadow suddenly felt as if it were made only of straight lines and sharp edges. He felt conflicted by the urge he felt to stand closer to her side to try and ease her obvious anxiety, as Phichit hadn’t made even the slightest of twitches, although he knew it wasn’t an option for him at this point.

He frowned at his own guilt but did not move.

“Greetings, Honored Guests,” a man who appeared to be the Captain, based on the ornamentation of his helmet, said. “I am Captain Popovich. We are your appointed regimen of the Rus Royal Guard, courtesy of His Excellency, Emperor Viktor Nikiforov the Third.”

Phichit stepped forward, a hand on his chest, and gave a short nod of acknowledgement. “I am Prince Phichit of Ayattuma, the Empire of the Sun. I am here with my commonwealth advisors: Lady Tran An Chau of Viama and Lord Katsuki Yuuri of Kyuu. We are grateful for your service.”

One cue, both Yuuri and Chau gave a slight bow and curtsey as thanks.

“Please, Your Highness, Lord, and Lady. Sir Alexi and I shall escort you into the reception hall.”

Phichit turned and dismissed their guards with a few words, waving them off with a reassuring smile.

They followed the two guards through a courtyard that had been completely laid with bricks. Each one had been carefully carved into different scenes: of landscapes, battles, animals, parties – just about anything Yuuri could think of had been immortalized in stone beneath his feet.

The reception hall at the Winter Palace dwarfed anything Yuuri had seen. It was so cavernous that he could hear their footsteps echoing despite the immense interior decorations, statues, and inlaid gold walls.

He tried to ignore the strange churning in his stomach – chalking it up to feeling small in a strange place, and followed the guards. He kept his eyes on their swords as they walked towards a group of people who were standing at the top of a short, semi-circle shaped stair.

“Your Excellency,” Captain Popovich suddenly called out, stopping on a dime to salute. His voice echoed in a way that made his rather plaintive voice sound authoritative. “The honored guests from the Eastern Empire have arrived.”

Yuuri felt his heart begin to race as three figures broke away from the others to stand on the top stair, beckoning them up.

Could he still be sick from the voyage? He didn’t think so, but the anticipation that flooded his senses was so foreign to him that he convinced himself he must’ve been suffering a side effect of his seasickness.

“Welcome to Winter Palace,” one of the figures greeted as they ascended. He was tall, with platinum blond hair, prominent cheekbones, and a sharp jawline. Everything about the man said “power”. From the style of his clothes to the way he stood, shoulders back and chest out. “I am Emperor Viktor Nikiforov the Third, and I come to greet you in goodwill. I have many hopes for this Summit, and I wish that your stay here will be comfortable.”

Emperor Viktor smiled. It did not reach his eyes. “With me is my cousin, Duchess Mila Babicheva, she oversees the palace’s day-to-day operations, so if you have any concerns about accommodations, please speak to her.” He gestured to the redheaded woman on his right, then to a young blond man to his left. “And this is Brother Yuri Plisetsky. He is a clergyman at the adjoined temple. He is young, but he is highly skilled in holy magic. You may seek him out at any time.”

Phichit stepped forward and gave a customary bow to each of the Rusi. “You honor us with your attentions,” he said in near perfect Ruish. Yuuri noted the mild surprise on the westerner’s faces. “I am Prince Phichit of Ayattuma, the Empire of the Sun. With me are my commonwealth advisors.” He gestured to Lady Chau, just as Viktor had done. “In their kingdoms it is custom to be introduced by their last names first. This is Lady Tran An Chau of Viama.”

Chau gave a curtsey.

He then motioned towards Yuuri with something of a rueful smile. “And this is Lord Katsuki Yuuri of Kyuu. I did not expect the name Yuuri to be popular on a different continent as well. It’s extraordinary.”

Yuuri bowed from the waist. He hid his reddening face for a couple moments to try and control his embarrassment at being singled out. When he stood back up, he saw the young clergyman staring at him rather obviously, his brows drawn down in consternation. He attempted to ignore it by looking at Emperor Viktor instead, only to see that even _he_ was chuffed by the duplicate name situation.

“How amusing,” Viktor agreed, mirth dancing in his eyes despite his neutral expression.

Yuuri could never get used to political platitudes like this. How anyone was never offended by such blasé attitudes and constant non-answers, was beyond him. Or perhaps they were offended but never showed it?

Something drew his eye to Viktor’s face, only to make eye contact with the Emperor. He felt a chill tumble down his spine – as if he had just made the greatest mistake of his life. Was it appropriate for someone of his station to look an emperor in the eyes? He didn’t know, but part of him felt pleased to know that he had.

However there was something deeper inside of him that resonated with those clear blue eyes. His lips parted and he almost said, _“Have we met before?”_ but he stopped himself and forced his eyes back to the floor. Why did he do that?

“Is Yuri a common name in your Kingdom?” the Emperor asked him conversationally.

Yuuri could feel himself blanche. He wanted to answer, but he suddenly found his mouth dry and his head throbbed. He should just say yes. It was a name that could be given to boys and girls in Kyuu. He knew of at least three other Yuuris. But no words came out of his mouth.

Emperor Viktor gave him a rather sympathetic look and said in broken Ayattuman, “I apologize for my rudeness. I hope I did not make you uncomfortable.”

Yuuri, even more embarrassed for making the entire exchange unbelievably painful, rapidly threw himself into another bow and simply said, “thank you,” in accented Ruish.

Duchess Mila clapped her hands, breaking the short, yet awkward silence. “It is so wonderful to meet all of you!” she said, deftly changing the conversation. “However, I am certain that you must be exhausted from your journey here as you have travelled further than any of our other guests. Please, allow me to escort you to your arranged chambers so that you may rest.”

Phichit smiled at her gratefully. “And I thank you. Before we go, I do have one request, if it’s not too much trouble.”

“Oh?” Duchess Mila stopped, looking as if she were unaccustomed to anyone taking up the generous offer for requests. “How may I be of assistance?”

“I hope this isn’t a bother, and it might be irrelevant, but I wanted to ask that our chambers, for myself, Lord Yuuri, and Lady Chau are next to one another. Although I am uncertain of your customs, so if Lady Chau cannot be near because of her sex, I can understand that.”

There was another drawn silence as Duchess Mila examined them once again, this time peering at them with a critical expression. All the while Phichit grinned disarmingly, as if he had never made a request to begin with.

“My,” Duchess Mila began with a smile. “I had guessed you would be close since those of similar origin tend to feel more at ease with one another. I am glad I made this assumption.” She pushed a lock of fiery red hair behind her ear, showing off several sparkling earrings. “I have Your Highness and Lord Yuuri together in a guest suite, however Lady Chau will have her own, separate, accommodations where all the other female guests will be staying. She will also receive female guards and personal servant.”

Phichit inclined his head in gratitude. “You are an exceptional hostess,” he said, moving to follow her once again. “Thank you for your consideration.”

They were led further into the Winter Palace, Captain Popovich and Sir Alexi following behind them. Grand, split staircases were decorated with inlaid gold leaf, colorful tapestries hung from the walls, and, to Yuuri’s astonishment, some ceilings had been immaculately painted with visions of Gods and cherubs; of Ruish Heaven and Hell.

Finally, Duchess Mila stopped in front of a set of doors that had been crafted from a wood so dark, they almost looked to be of granite stone. “This will be your shared suite, Prince Phichit and Lord Yuuri.” She opened the doors with a flourish and gestured the entire party inside. “The center room is the shared sitting room. The entrances to the bedchambers are to the left, right, and in the back. Each one has its own private bath and breakfast nook,” she explained genially, waving about the room as she went. “I hope that you find that everything is to your satisfaction.”

“Captain Popovich, please remain with our guests. Sir Alexi please escort Lady Chau with me. Sir Olena is waiting at her post for the arrival of Lady Chau. Please remember that the comfort and safety of our guests is paramount.”

Yuuri watched as Lady Chau was led out of the room. She put on a remarkably brave face, but he could see how tightly she clutched her paper fan against her waist in anxiety. He felt bad that she would have to go through this experience alone, but she had agreed to come, knowing that they would not be allowed to bring personal guards or servants in a show of good faith.

“Your luggage should arrive soon, Your Highness,” Captain Popovich said once the door closed. “Why not choose a room and relax in the meantime?”

Phichit waved the suggestion away and reclined on one of the many overstuffed loungers in the room. “I believe I am too excited by such a change in scenery to relax, dear Captain,” he said, motioning for Yuuri to sit nearby. “Is it okay if we have a little chat with you instead? I have so many questions about Rus but there is no one to answer them.”

“I will do my best,” the man said, although he didn’t sound particularly enthusiastic. “However, my priority is your safety. I cannot, even for a moment, allow my concentration to be broken. We have excellent security to begin with, but if even a momentary lapse of judgement led to either His Highness or Lord Yuuri being injured, I could simply never forgive myself.”

“Oh, um, yes of course,” Phichit interrupted wearily. “I wouldn’t mean to distract you, so please let me know if my questions are too preoccupying.”

“I shall.”

Yuuri closed his eyes to conceal an eyeroll. He knew he should consider the Captain’s desire for complete vigilance as admirable, but instead found himself worried by the fact the man thought a conversation would be too distracting.

He allowed his consciousness to drift along the shadows, listening to their whispers of movement while Phichit began to pepper the Captain with polite questions about the climate and basic customs of Rus. The Winter Palace was bustling with activity – far more than he was used to at Kyuu Castle. Maids seemed to be scurrying about in back passages like mice, guards patrolled the hallways like clockwork, and a few individuals, likely nobles, seemed to be wandering about aimlessly.

“I understand the Church is very important in Rus?” Phichit was saying, “Religion is very different in the East, so I am very curious.”

The Captain squared his shoulders, a smile spreading on his face. “Of course, the Church is paramount in importance! It is where those blessed with Holy magic gather to exercise their skills and speak with the Lord – sharing His words with us. Our God is a benevolent ruler of the Heavens, where our souls ascend to rest after our earthly trials.”

Yuuri glanced over at Phichit, the same moment that Phichit glanced at him. It appeared that they were probably thinking the same thing: _was their guard a lunatic?_

“Could you, um, tell me what Holy magic is? I’ve never heard that word before.” Phichit tried to keep his voice light and interested, although Yuuri knew by looking at him that the Prince was becoming somewhat overwhelmed.

Captain Popovich looked taken aback, as if Phichit had just said he had never seen the sun in his entire life.

“I may know what it is,” Phichit added quickly, floundering to recover, “but it might just be a different word in my language! If you explain I will know what the word means in Ayattuman!”

“Oh!” the relief on the guard’s face was almost comical. “Your command of Ruish is so great that I nearly forgot it is not your primary language! Please forgive me.” He cleared his throat, embarrassed. “Holy magic is used for illumination, divination, occasionally clairvoyance if the mage is talented enough, and it can be used to cleanse auras of soul sickness. It is the light that banishes the darkness; the answer to the riddle of life.”

Phichit nodded along with the Captain as he spoke. “You are speaking of lightmancy or light magic! It is . . . almost unheard of in Ayattuma. Very rare. Rus must be, um, blessed to have so many attuned to light in their lands.”

Captain Popovich nodded derisively. “We are.” He pulled himself back to his full height. “I apologize but I fear I might have been too inattentive to my duties just now. Please, rest for now. I shall guard you.”

Deciding it was best to move on, Yuuri and Phichit went about choosing their bedchambers, Yuuri in the middle and Phichit on the right, in hopes that anyone attempting to break in would assume the center door was Phichit’s.

“I’m a bit worried,” Phichit whispered to Yuuri later that day after their luggage had been carried to their suite. They were in Phichit’s breakfast nook, snacking on provided teacakes and politely sipping the bitter drink they learned was called coffee. “I didn’t think that there would be such a gap in religious views between our Empires. I mean I knew there _would_ be one, but it seems they take theirs very, very seriously. What if they won’t negotiate with us because they see us heathens?”

Yuuri shrugged. “One would think that they would already know we don’t share the same views on religion, considering they invited us here. I doubt they would do so without at least a little research.”

Phichit sighed, dramatically dropping his head onto the table. “I guess! Although I was surprised at first to see a priest be a part of the royal reception – I suppose it just shows how seriously they take their religion . . . and how much power their Church has.”

“True.” Yuuri pulled off his glasses to clean them.

“What are you thinking about? You’re glowering pretty hard right now.”

Yuuri huffed, but said what was on his mind, slipping into Kyuunan for extra privacy. “I think I should keep a low profile,” he admitted, feeling nervous. “They basically worship lightmancers, so I’m not sure how they would react to a shadowmancer in their presence, honestly.”

Phichit rubbed at his cheek, his other hand fiddling with the handle of his coffee mug. “You have a point. We don’t know if they’d react violently or if there are any kind of laws or beliefs about it. We’ll have to keep our ears open for any information about it.”

“I hope it doesn’t get any more complicated.”

* * *

That night a banquet was held to celebrate the start of the summit in the morning. They had been the last group of diplomats to arrive, for which Yuuri was grateful. He didn’t want to spend any more time in Rus than was strictly necessary, but it also meant they had not yet met any of the other representatives. Due to that, he knew they were going to have a long, boring dinner of introductions.

At first, Yuuri was astounded by the great, U-shaped table that dominated the massive dining hall. The Emperor, Duchess Mila, and Brother Yuri were sat at the center along with a few personal retainers. Others were scattered about the two arms. Each group dressed in styles that varied slightly and were attended to by tall servants dressed in immaculate white suits and ties.

“Pardon me, Honored Guests,” a servant said, approaching them with a sense of gallantry. “I will be your waiter for the duration of your stay. Please call me Sasha. I will see you to your seats now if you would kindly follow me.”

Baffled, Yuuri followed Phichit and Lady Chau to the seats that the waiter pointed out for them. He was accustomed to the idea that a servant should be seen as little as possible, but here they almost looked like dolls to dress up and flaunt about.

He was sat next to Duchess Mila Babicheva, a little white place card with his name written in golden calligraphy perched upon his empty plate. Phichit and Chau were across from him further down the table. Brother Yuri sat on one side of Lady Chau, while Phichit was directly across from Emperor Viktor.

The waiter poured each of them a glass of wine, then went off to fetch their platters.

“Please enjoy yourself while you are here,” Emperor Viktor said, glancing over each one of them. “We want to show you how great Rus hospitality is.”

Lady Chau looked stupefied.

Yuuri worried that she might not have the fortitude to make it through the next few days of talks. His worry also increased when he noticed that Chau was likely the smallest person in the room, almost giving her an appearance of a lost child at an adults’ party.

“You speak Ruish, do you not?” Duchess Mila suddenly asked Yuuri as his platter was placed in front of him. “You have the look that you understand, at least.”

Yuuri took a quick glance over at his companions, noting that Phichit and Chau were rather deeply engaged in a conversation with the Emperor. Brother Yuri seemed to pay the discourse no mind, as he was busy staring holes into the side of Yuuri’s head.

Unsettled at that revelation, Yuuri turned to the Duchess and said, “I want to say yes, but I worry that it doesn’t sound very good.”

The Duchess’ face lit up. “Oh! That’s wonderful! You sound wonderful, too! I was so worried that this would be such a dull dinner with no conversation partner.” She cut a steak into small, triangular pieces of the exact same size as she spoke. “You are from Kyuu, the island kingdom, correct?”

Yuuri nodded, trying to keep his face polite and interested. He thought he could already feel a headache coming on.

“Honestly, I had never heard of it, until it was proposed that the Eastern Empire be invited to our summit. Please, tell me what it is like?”

Yuuri mulled over his answer for a moment. He felt an instinctual need to present his home kingdom in an attractive light, but all the same, he didn’t want to make it sound as if he thought it were superior.

“It is old,” he decided to start, pulling his goblet of wine closer to him. “And it stays old. It is a kingdom that loves tradition, tranquility, and to remain unchanging. Buildings do not change, forests do not change, the people do not change. Before we became a part of the commonwealth, no one left Kyuu and no one came.”

The Duchess was staring at him in open enthusiasm and he nearly faltered. He wasn’t familiar with people taking such obvious interest in what he had to say – beyond Phichit, but he had labeled the Prince as an anomaly years ago.

“Prince Phichit has mentioned to me that he finds Kyuu to be a ‘Kingdom of Old Men’, because of how stubborn we are about customs, tea, and formality.”

Duchess Mila giggled. “It sounds very peaceful,” she sighed wistfully.

He wanted to disagree with her, but after glancing around at the chaos of waiters, boisterous nobles, and the little string quartet in the corner plucking away at bouncing melodies, he couldn’t say that it wasn’t.

“Our capital is in the north of our kingdom, so it is very cold here at least half of the year. It is why the first Tsar named this the Winter Palace – long before Rus began to conquer and become an empire.” She took a bite of her steak and set her fork down. “Because of the mountain terrain and the cold, it was imperative for Rus to expand south.”

Yuuri nodded along. Food would be scarce, so a resource war would be inevitable.

“Some say that with new technology, Rus can now be self-sufficient and return conquered kingdoms to their noble houses. However, those kingdoms have been a part of the empire for several generations. They are as much of Rus as St. Petersburg is. Others say we need more. To spread our culture and the teachings of our Church. The empire has much to teach. No one can agree.”

“A difficult situation,” he offered lamely. There was no way he would give a noblewoman advise about her government. Let alone one he barely understood.

The Duchess smiled broadly at him, looking pleased – as if he had passed some sort of test. “There is something about you, Lord Yuuri,” she cooed, leaning slightly closer. “Maybe it is because you have such a calm aura – motionless, even. I am so used to the chaos of Brother Yuri’s aura and the prickly chill of Vik – Emperor Viktor’s.”

He tried everything in his power to not flinch away from her. “I, uh, thank you very much.”

“Hmmm – I think that I’ll imagine you are the physical representation of Kyuu. Calm, quiet, and with hidden depths.”

“Ah, you flatter me.”

Duchess Mila laughed again. Her food was hardly touched. “Oh! Allow me to introduce you to some of the other diplomats.” She winked at him. “At least the ones that matter.”

She waved a hand and her personal waiter slid up next to her. He nodded along as she whispered something in his ear, and he took off once again towards one of the table’s arms.

“Lord Emil is from Morav, a mid-size kingdom that lies to the south-west of Rus’ borders. They do a lot of trade in wool and pottery since a large portion of their kingdom lies in the lower mountains.”

Someone belched loudly on the other side of the room and the Duchess looked on with distaste before returning her attention to Yuuri.

“The other is Countess Isabella, who is betrothed to Prince Jean-Jacques of Nande. It is a Kingdom that spans much of the east coast of our continent, and a large portion of the southern prairies. Trade with them is extremely important since they are rife with farmland.”

Just as she finished her brief explanation, a tall, blond man with a trimmed beard and a slender woman with black hair and blue eyes – a combination Yuuri had never seen before – arrived at their table with a flourished bow and curtsey to Duchess Mila.

“Duchess Mila! It is always a pleasure to see you!” the man said. Emil, Yuuri assumed, was a somewhat baby-faced man, despite his beard. He wondered if it was his jovial attitude that made him seem so young or if he was simply acting his age. “And you must be Lord Yuuri from the Eastern Empire’s group! I must say I am excited to learn about you.”

“I am Countess Isabella of Nande,” the woman greeted formally, giving Yuuri a small curtsey. “My grandmother is from Chizia, actually. It’s not particularly close to Kyuu, but I do remember her bedtime stories about the fabled island kingdom.”

“Oh, Yuuri, are you entertaining guests?” Phichit cut in before he could formulate a polite response. “I am Prince Phichit,” he said, chipper, beginning his introductory spiel once again.

Yuuri watched in bemusement as the conversation naturally moved away from him and focused instead on Phichit. He was a little jealous at how easily Phichit could engage anyone. On the other hand, he was perfectly okay with being in the background – it gave him the space and time to think about what to say and to observe his surroundings.

When they had been escorted back to their chambers after the group meal finished, Yuuri found himself exhausted, but unable to rest. His head throbbed along with his pulse and he felt that his hearing was oversensitive, occasionally picking up imagined whispering in the late evening air.

“I can’t believe it’s still this light outside,” Phichit muttered as he fastened the locks on his chamber windows.

Yuuri lit a bedside candle and sighed. “I saw there was a public garden by the left palace wing. I was going to go for a stroll to try and clear my head.” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “I think I’m still recovering from my seasickness.”

“It’s possible,” Phichit agreed with a look of sympathy. “Why don’t you go out now? You can sense my shadow, right? I doubt anything will happen to me on the first night with Captain Popovich standing in the common room.”

Yuuri gave Phichit a dubious look. “Do you really feel that comfortable here?” he asked.

Phichit shrugged. “I guess I’m pretty adaptable,” he answered, nonchalant. “I spent most of my childhood moving from kingdom to kingdom as my father conquered more and more land.” Phichit sat on his bed, a wistful look on his face. “I’d probably feel as much of an outsider in the Sun Palace with my mother and sisters as I do here.”

“My parents have a room for you at the estate, you know,” Yuuri mumbled, patting Phichit on the shoulder in a manner he hoped was comforting. “Mother doesn’t allow anyone else to stay in it.”

“You mean the one with all the knickknacks and furniture from Ayattuma and the cute faux sun-bear rug?”

Yuuri nodded. “She set it up just for you. No one else can use it, so, it’s _your_ room and you’re always welcome to stay – even if it’s thirty years from now. No invitation needed.”

Phichit turned his face away, blinking rapidly to stop what Yuuri suspected were the beginning of tears. “Thanks,” he murmured, unable to continue. Phichit wasn’t sure how to be vulnerable, even in front of someone he trusted with his life – Yuuri could relate to that; deeply.

“I’ll be in the gardens,” he whispered, clasping his hands together with anxiety. At this point he knew they needed some space before things got awkward for them both. If they had been back home, he would’ve stayed to deal with the uncomfortable emotions, but here in Rus they had to remain as strong as steel – ready for anything.

Deciding it was best to not inform Captain Popovich of his plans so he wouldn’t be tempted to follow him and leave Phichit behind, Yuuri pulled himself into the shadows, easily slipping out of the room and passing the guards both inside and outside of the suite. He found an empty corner not too far from the garden entrance and allowed himself to step out of hiding.

He walked with his back straight, chest out, and eyes forward, making sure to give the illusion of a confidence he didn’t have. It was something useful he had learned from Phichit over the years. If you looked like you knew what you were doing or where you were going, no one short of a paranoid busybody would bother taking note of your presence. He hoped there weren’t too many of those in the Ruish courts.

As he emerged into the gardens, Yuuri took a deep, calming breath. The air still held the crisp, cool, note of winter despite it being mid-April. He had read that because how far north Rus was, the upper regions of the empire would be cloaked in continuous night part of the year and unending sunlight the other half, with short transitional periods. A part of him marveled that despite the late hour, the sun had just finished dipping behind the distant mountain peaks, leaving the sky a smear of oranges, purples, and pinks.

He strolled through the symmetrical garden, admiring not just the simplicity of its layout but also the great detail that went into the fountains and stonework, rather than the flowers and shrubs.

The night was quickly encroaching on the garden and Yuuri stopped next to a nightshade plant, which was partially hidden in a near maze-like area made from hallways of decorative shrubs; both to embrace the small trickle of energy from the deepening shadows, and to wonder why such a commonly known poisonous plant was in such an auspicious place. Did the gardeners know it was poisonous? Was it a plant of significance in Rus? He was dumbfounded for a moment.

Suddenly the hair on the back of his neck stood up – the sound of the shadows hissing with movement pricked at his senses. He could feel the presence of two beings. One was advancing on him slowly while the other winked out of existence when he turned his magical gaze towards it.

Unsure, but unable to take a moment to contemplate the idea of something suddenly vanishing, the other presence began to close in on him at an alarming pace.

He tensed, trying not to send any obvious glances towards the corner of the hedges where he sensed the other. Then he allowed himself to simply relax, calming his mind to a razor-sharp focus.

The shrubs shuddered slightly as he took an easy step where he knew the other person was hiding. His nose twitched with warning and he stopped on a dime, a dagger flashing in front of his chest as it was thrown from inside of one shrub to land uselessly in the shrub across the maze isle.

The knife attack was then followed by a man brandishing stiletto daggers in each hand. He wore all black with a mask covering his mouth and nose. The man said nothing, but simply began to swing at Yuuri with a single-minded intent to kill.

At this point, Yuuri had already retrieved his kunai from the waist of his hakama and his sleeve. He parried his attacker easily, managing to cut one of the man’s knuckles in the process.

His attacker gave a reflexive curse in Ayattuman, surprising Yuuri for a fraction of a second.

It was enough of a pause for the man to find an opening, and he thrust himself at Yuuri.

Air magic rushed past his senses – familiar in the sense that it was similar to the caress of Mari’s magic, but it did not have her aura signature.

He vaulted at Yuuri with inhuman speed, using his air magic to make him more aerodynamic, while giving him a boost from behind. The skinny daggers were aimed for Yuuri's throat.

As soon as he had felt the brush of magic, Yuuri had begun to pull himself into the shade of the shrubs, knowing that simple knifework likely wasn’t going to overpower a skilled mage. He shuddered as he felt the assassin pass through his incorporeal body, missing his shift by only a fraction of a second.

It was an extremely close call and that had Yuuri upset. He was supposed to be better than this. This fight needed to end quickly before someone heard or tried to find him.

Another Ayattuman curse of surprise came from the assassin and Yuuri took that moment to reach out from the shadows of the late sunset and grasp the man’s collar. Only his arms were solid when he pulled the man towards him and then slammed the ring of his kunai into his temple.

One of the man's stiletto reflexively jabbed into Yuuri's gut, but it passed through him.

He stepped fully out of the shadows as the man collapsed onto the grassy ground with a thud. For a moment he simply stared down at the man’s body, his mind running in twenty different directions but coming up with no answers.

Why was he being targeted? By an Ayattuman? Was this a warning? Were Phichit and Lady Chau in danger at this moment as well?

Suddenly the presence he had felt earlier blinked back to life and he startled, nearly tripping over the prone man. He pulled his kunai back up defensively and readied himself for another attack.

“Who’s there?” he snarled.

Duchess Mila stepped around the corner, her hands up in surrender. “Can I just say that I’m _shocked_ by what I’ve seen here tonight?” she said, not looking at all surprised or perplexed. In fact, she was smiling at him.

Yuuri faltered, his fighting stance loosening. He very well couldn’t attack the Duchess, nor threaten her to keep her silence. This was a problem and he wasn’t entirely sure how he was going to weasel out of it.

“What did you see?” he asked anxiously, stepping in front of his collapsed attacker.

“Oh, just you take out an obviously well-trained assassin in less than two minutes while using a magic I’ve never seen or felt before.” She tapped her chin, her blue eyes trained on him. “So now I’m _very_ curious.”

“I didn’t see you . . .” he stumbled out. Maybe he should portal himself back to Phichit and claim he had never been in the garden at all. Would people assume the Duchess was lying? Looking at her sharp, intelligent gaze, he assumed not. “I should’ve noticed you,” he muttered.

Duchess Mila nodded. “Looking at you, I believe that you’d notice a normal person at least a hundred paces away, but . . .” she trailed off, looking a bit like a cat who had eaten a canary and just spotted a second one. “I use Holy magic to do this.”

She held up her arm for Yuuri to see. Slowly, beginning at her fingertips, her arm began to dissipate until there was nothing but a strangely shaped stub at her shoulder. “It works best for my entire body, so I’m not left with this oddness,” she waved the stub around. “But it _is_ pretty useful.”

“This is Holy magic?” he asked, despite himself. “And you aren’t a member of the clergy?”

“Oh goodness, no,” Duchess Mila laughed. “Not all Holy magic is equal! The clergy only want those who are attuned to clarity magic – see the future, see if people are lying, healing aura sickness; things like that. I, however, use illumination magic. I can will the light to pass through my body, making myself completely transparent. Useful, but not worthy of the Church.”

That explained why he had felt her shadow suddenly disappear like that before the fight. He stood up and relaxed his posture, tucking away his kunai back into his sleeves. “I’m sorry for . . .” he tried to remember the word that she had used, “for shocking you.”

“Oh no, I don’t want an apology. I want an _explanation_.” Her hands were settled on her hips and she had a look on her face that said there would be no excuses.

Not knowing where to start, Yuuri started to ramble. “I am, uhm, or I have been in the employ of the Chulanont family as Prince Phichit’s personal guard for several years. I came with him to Rus not only as a dignitary of Kyuu, of which I am fully qualified, but also to protect the Prince because King Chulanont was extremely leery of the good faith clause.”

Duchess Mila nodded. “I can’t say I’m terribly surprised – there were a few kingdoms that outright refused to attend because of that clause. Those that did only sent minor nobles – Prince Phichit is the only exception, something that Vi – Emperor Viktor found to be rather . . . touching.”

She shook her head, her red curls bouncing about her shoulders. “You didn’t answer my question though. What kind of magic –”

The unconscious assassin groaned, grinding their conversation to a halt.

“Are you going to just leave him there?” the Duchess asked after a moment. “If he wakes up, he’ll attack you again. Or go for the Prince.”

Yuuri frowned and looked down at the man. He wasn’t entirely sure what to do with him. Normally whenever he thwarted an attacker, Phichit or the King were already there giving instructions.

“I doubt he’d talk,” Yuuri mumbled. He knew this man was more than likely from Ayattuma, which was probably more information than he would’ve gotten from interrogating the man. He leaned over his would-be assassin and placed a hand on each side of the man’s head. “May Izanami and her children guide your way,” he whispered, then, with practiced ease, violently twisted the man’s head, snapping his neck with an ominous ‘pop’.

“Oh,” Duchess Mila gasped softly, “I didn’t actually think you’d do that.”

Yuuri wiped his sweaty hands on his hakama before beginning to rifle through the dead assassin’s clothes. “Somethings must be done for the protection of the Prince,” he said mechanically. He took no joy from the act of killing, but he’d learned to compartmentalize his feelings about it a long time ago, otherwise he likely would’ve let himself be killed years ago.

“That’s . . . true.” She scrutinized him closely. Something about her expression told him that she was evaluating how dangerous he might be to her. “What magic do you use?”

Yuuri’s found a folded note stuffed in the man’s shirt. He took it out and stuffed it into his own hakama before standing up with a sigh.

He took a moment to scrutinize the Duchess. Gathering the magic of the evening shadows around him, he geared himself up to flee, because he knew there was no lying to this shrewd woman. In fact, he wouldn't be surprised if she already knew the answer and was simply trying to make him say it first.

“An old magic,” he said at last. Yuuri stared the Duchess in the eyes and asked, throwing his life to fate, “What do you think about necromancy?”

Duchess Mila reared back momentarily but quickly smoothed her expression. “Necromancy . . . I believe you are speaking of Unholy magic – that of death, yes?”

Yuuri nodded once.

“Hm. It is not . . . something that has been practiced in Rus or the western continent in . . . centuries, at the least.” She tapped her chin. “The Church came to its beginnings during the first crusade against the Unholy cities – catacombs that those with the magics of death festered.”

He fought back a scoff, but he could see that the Duchess could read his obstinate expression.

“You think me to be in the wrong?”

Yuuri shrugged. “It’s always difficult to listen to prejudice,” he said with a small sigh. “That doesn’t matter now, though. In Kyuu necromancy is a sacred magic. It is woven deep into our culture. It's the bridge that the God and the Goddess built between life and death. Without it . . . how do you put the dead to rest peacefully?”

Duchess Mila rubbed her forehead with exasperation. “We will have to come back to that topic on another day,” she said. “I do not understand how you did what I just saw by using Unholy magic. Does it not just affect corpses? How does this work?”

“I guess like Holy magic there are different kinds of . . . "Unholy" magic.” He tried everything in his power to keep his voice steady. “I can control the shadows – I am a _part_ of them – the transitional space between this world and the Underworld.”

A look of clarity passed over the Duchess’s face. “Oh! That is quite different!” she started to say.

Yuuri shook his head. “It is the same,” he urged. Looking around he could see that the sky was now a uniform purple, the first few stars of the night twinkling above his head. “I’m sorry to do this to you, Duchess,” he said, “but I must go and check that the Prince is safe.”

He took a step towards a darkened corner. “I’m sure Captain Popovich has done a great job, but please understand that if anything happens to the Prince, my life is forfeit.”

She looked as if she were going say something else, but he allowed himself to drop into the shadows, her expression of surprise blurring away into inky blackness. He reached for Phichit’s aura and submerged himself into the icy cold of a shadow portal.

He broke surface in Phichit’s room, tripping over an end table that was next to the armchair Phichit was sitting in, a flickering candle on his opposite side.

“Yuuri?” Phichit gasped, alarmed. “Yuuri what happened? Why did you portal so suddenly? You should’ve warned me!” the Prince chided him, taking his elbow to help him balance before leading him to sit on the bed. “What’s going on?”

Yuuri rubbed his eyes under his glasses, not bothering to pick them up when he accidently jostled them and knocked them to the floor. “I made a mistake,” he seethed, angry at himself for not being careful enough. He could be putting their entire delegation in trouble. “I’m an idiot.”

Phichit squatted down in front of him, gently pulling his hands away from his face. “You’re not,” he said softly. “You’re very smart and cunning and strategic, Yuuri. You just don’t think you are because you’re too busy thinking about all the ways things can go wrong instead of how they might go right.”

He could only groan in response.

“But we’ll come back to that conversation in a moment. Tell me what happened.”

Carefully Yuuri relayed what happened in the gardens to Phichit, making sure not to forget a single detail, from the nightshade bush, to his exact conversation with the Duchess.

Phichit was silent throughout the entire story, soaking it all in. If he had any questions he would ask them after Yuuri finished; sometimes he nodded in the middle of what Yuuri was saying as if he just heard the answer to one of his postponed questions answered.

“So, you just left the Duchess with the corpse?” he asked once Yuuri was finished, an eyebrow raised.

Yuuri worried on his lower lip for a moment. “I panicked.”

“Obviously.” Phichit stood up with a sigh and sat back in his armchair, a pensive look on his face. “Well they can’t blame you for defending yourself,” he said at length. “There might be . . . a lot of culture clash, based on what the Duchess said of Unholy magic, or whatever they call it. But that’s no reason to try and prosecute a foreign diplomat. Unless they want war.”

“So, unlikely then, considering this is a _peace_ summit.”

Phichit nodded, but he still looked worried. “Still, be careful Yuuri. We don’t know these people, or completely understand their culture or beliefs. I can’t really guess what they may or may not do at this point.”

They both shared an exhausted sigh.

“Oh!” Phichit perked up and leaned towards Yuuri. “I almost forgot, but what did that paper on the assassin say?”

Yuuri jumped up as he reached into the waistband of his hakama, surprised that he’d nearly forgotten about the slip of paper. He pulled it out and unfolded it with slightly trembling fingers.

Reading it, the paper fell from his hands and Phichit scooped it up without missing a beat. His face fell as he glanced at it.

Yuuri rubbed his arms and closed his eyes. He took deep, even breaths, simply feeling out the easy swaying of shadows from trees moving with the gentle wind outside their window.

“It was bound to happen sometime,” he said once he managed to calm himself down. “My role in Hisa’s army wasn’t exactly a secret once she was dead.”

“Well this is . . . not good,” Phichit muttered before he tucked the paper between the pages of a nearby book. “One of the aggrieved nobles from the war must have sent this out without my father’s knowledge.”

Yuuri tried not to think what was written on paper. But burned into his mind’s eye, under a crude sketch of his face, were the Ayattuman words:

_Wanted dead: Yuuri Katsuki for 500,000 baht._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay. I forgot that back to school meant less personal computer use. :(


	4. Chapter 4

Yuuri woke up the next morning with a pounding headache and dry throat. Unable to sleep, he ended up spending his night laying in his bed overthinking.

He should have known that something like this would happen. And he was yet _even_ more frustrated at himself for buying into the delusion that he could move on with his life – away from the memory of Hisa and everything she had made him do.

Yuuri rolled onto his stomach and cradled his head in his arms, feeling the weight sink into the plush pillow. To think that he had panicked and blurted out to the Duchess, a _cousin_ of the _Emperor_ , about his shadowmancy, after making the prudent decision to hide it for the duration of their stay. . . He hoped Phichit wasn’t upset.

If only he could travel into the past and knock himself out cold, he would.

He took his time getting dressed for the day, belatedly wondering if he should have declined Sasha’s offer to send him a valet to maintain his wardrobe. It certainly would be helpful having someone tie his hakama’s knots, though he doubted anyone besides himself and Phichit actually knew how.

As he fussed with his hair, he pondered the likelihood of his ability to leave Rus, let alone continue to be a part of the Eastern delegation, should everything go wrong. He knew that diplomatic immunity could only stretch so far – was he going to be shipped home as soon as he stepped out into the sitting room?

Probably.

Mustering his courage, and his magic, he opened the door to his suite and surveyed the common room, ready for a fight.

Yuuri was rather taken aback to find Phichit and Captain Popovich chatting quietly together. Their posture was tranquil, and each held a book between relaxed fingers, although the Captain’s spear remained within his reach.

A silver cart filled with pastries, an insulated pot of tea, and cutlery was pushed next to his quarter’s door.

“Good morning, Lord Yuuri,” Phichit greeted brightly, causing Captain Popovich to look over his shoulder and greet him as well. “The Captain here was just telling me about how quiet it was last night.”

“Oh really?” he asked, eyebrows raising, incredulous.

Phichit nodded. “Yes. He was telling me how normally it’s quite rowdy after welcoming feasts due to the alcohol, but last night was so utterly _peaceful_.” He smiled. “I for one am relieved, for I slept so soundly. I hope every night is just as calm.”

Captain Popovich nodded vigorously. “It generally _is_. I did not mean to give you the wrong impression. Winter Palace is a place of serenity. It is simply that alcohol and Lord Emil don’t always . . . go down _quietly_.”

Yuuri choked out an incredulous huff of a laugh. What was happening right now? Did no one notice the corpse last night? Or did the Duchess keep it under wraps? She was probably going to tell the Emperor and he was going to be executed later that afternoon, probably.

Oh gods, why was he panicking at _good news_?

“Excuse me,” he choked out and grabbed his breakfast cart.

“Pardon Lord Yuuri, Captain. He’s still shy when speaking Ruish,” he heard Phichit smoothly explain away as he closed his door behind himself.

He couldn’t believe this was happening. When were the guards coming to arrest him? Shouldn’t he at least be questioned? Phichit seemed relaxed, but there was no way he could accept that he wouldn’t face some kind of consequence for last night.

His hands trembled as he tried to pour himself a cup of tea. Some of it splattered onto the table and he let out a soft curse. Breathing deeply, he brought the half-full teacup to his lips.

Just as he was about to take a sip, there was a knock on his door. He paused; eyes wide as he stared at the door for a second. Had he been so distracted that he hadn’t noticed another presence approaching?

He felt like an utter _failure_ at this point.

“Yes?” he called out smoothly; the full weight of formality that had been drilled into his head since he was born overpowered his anxiety.

“Lord Yuuri, Duchess Mila has arrived, asking if she may break fast with you this morning. May she enter?” Captain Popovich announced after cracking the door just enough for his voice to carry into the room.

Yuuri set his teacup down. He knew that something would happen before this morning was over, he simply wasn’t sure _what_. With a sigh he once again began to bundle his magic towards himself, preparing an escape in case things turned out badly.

“Please let her in,” he answered, rubbing at his temples. For Phichit’s sake, he could do this.

Duchess Mila swept into the room, wearing a sapphire blue dress with a princess neckline that accented a large opal necklace. She delicately sat across from Yuuri, gracefully accepting an empty plate and cutlery from Yuuri’s breakfast cart.

“Do you not have an attendant?” she asked him as he steeled his nerves in order to pour a cup of tea. “I thought Sasha was provided for your suite?”

“I asked that he only attend to me when the Prince and I are in a gathering together, so that he might be able to focus more on his Highness’s comfort in the interim,” Yuuri said softly. “I’m very used to being . . . independent.”

She frowned at him but let the topic drop. Instead she went about choosing a custard filled pastry, using a pair of silver tongs to scrutinize each option before picking one that she determined had the most custard inside.

“I wanted to talk about what happened last night,” she said casually, her bright blue eyes examining his reactions.

Yuuri could feel the muscles in his back tense despite his effort to remain relaxed. “I am . . . sorry,” he mumbled, staring down at his plain muffin. He wasn’t sure how he was supposed to eat it. Did he use his fork or was it meant to be eaten with his hands? Would the Duchess judge him harshly for trying to eat it with his chopsticks?

Why was he worrying about something as asinine as how to eat his breakfast, when this very conversation could end with him being expelled from Rus entirely? Why wouldn’t his brain just _work_ in anxious moments like this?

Mercifully, the Duchess waved her hand about to silence him. “No apologies. What is done, is done. At this point you simply owe me for keeping my silence.”

“You . . . told no one?” he blurted in disbelief. “Why? Not that I’m not thankful, but _why_?”

She giggled a little at his expression, but set down her fork, her pastry merely cut up without a piece tasted. “Because I’m _curious_! Although I’m not sure what you’re worried about. That man was no citizen of Rus and you do have the right to defend yourself.”

“I was more worried about . . .” he trailed off, looking at the door. He sensed a presence hovering nearby and frowned. It was not Phichit’s familiar aura. He dropped his voice to a whisper. “I’m sorry, but I’m afraid someone is attempting to listen.”

Duchess Mila’s eyes narrowed, and she snuck a glimpse at the door, perhaps wondering how Yuuri knew this.

“As for . . . _that,_ you do have diplomatic immunity,” she said just as softly. “You could be a nudist cannibal and we would have to respect your culture – granted we would’ve never invited you to begin with, but my point stands. The Church cannot persecute you for your cultural beliefs while you are here on Rus soil.” She picked up her fork and stabbed a piece of her pastry. “You simply must tell me all about Kyuu for I am so terribly curious,” she said loudly before eating the custard bite.

Recognizing that the Duchess was going to try and ferret out what she wanted to know without tipping off the eavesdropper, Yuuri smiled benignly. “I will tell you anything that you wish to know.”

“And about yourself as well!” she went on, grinning mischievously. “You are a product of your Kingdom! I’m sure you have so many interesting stories. Why, I don’t think the short time you’ll be here at the summit will be enough to tell me everything. You simply must write to me – we shall be friends!”

Yuuri stared at her, unsure if he believed his ears. “You want to be my friend? Although we just met?”

She laughed, her hand fluttering up to her chest as if she were trying to prevent herself from breathing too hard. Yuuri wondered if it was an etiquette thing.

“You _fascinate_ me,” she said. “And I think we have some circumstances that connect us.” 

_She’s referring to last night_ , Yuuri thought with a grimace. It appeared that he would have to pay for her silence by following her whims. “I am honored for your friendship, Duchess Mila.”

“Please, just call me Mila when we are alone,” she insisted.

“Then you can call me Yuuri.”

Mila smiled and set her fork down. “Yuuri, then. I want to thank you for entertaining my notion for breakfast this morning. I honestly did not have much time to spare when I thought of this silly scheme, so please, you must excuse me now so that I may return to my duties around the palace.”

Yuuri stood and gave Mila and deep bow of gratitude. “Thank you for your time, Mila. May we meet again soon.”

At this point, the presence lingering by the door had scurried away.

Mila opened the door and Yuuri followed her out, moving to the suite’s entrance to properly see her out.

In the sitting room was Phichit, with a rather vexed expression, lounging on the sofa with a thick book opened onto his lap, while Captain Popovich had moved to stand at attention behind the Prince. Next to the exit now stood Sir Alexi, who Yuuri recognized as one of the escorts from their arrival.

“Your Highness,” Mila curtseyed once she stood at the door to leave. “I’m sorry to disturb your morning only to depart so soon, I do hope you’ll forgive me.”

Phichit’s face easily smoothed into a charming smile. “There’s nothing to forgive,” he said. “Besides, I believe we’ll see you later this afternoon during the opening council?”

“Indeed.”

She then turned to the extra guard in the room with a reproachful look. “Sir Alexi, please escort me to the Emperor’s study.”

The man looked as if he were about to protest but thought better of it. “It would be my honor,” he droned, not looking terribly pleased, but compliant none the less.

Yuuri sank down into the seat next to Phichit once he had seen the Duchess out as etiquette dictated. He sighed and pressed a palm to his right eye, hoping to alleviate some of the throbbing in his head.

“Who was at my door?” he carefully asked Phichit in Kyuunan, keeping his voice low as to not alert the Captain to the contents of their conversation, unlikely as it would be if the man could understand their words.

“The one who left,” Phichit answered just as carefully. “Completely ignored my commands for privacy, too.”

Yuuri grimaced. Now that was a development he wasn’t glad of. “We shall have to be more careful, then.”

He stretched, his neck cracking quietly as the tension in his muscles began to dissipate. “Oh! I forgot to finish my breakfast,” he gasped, returning to Ruish. “Excuse me.”

Phichit chuckled, returning to his book with a calmer countenance than before. “Let me know when you’re finished. Captain Popovich has offered to take us on a tour and escort us to the training yard after the council is finished so that you may exercise.”

Yuuri gave him a grateful smile as he headed back into his quarters. Sometimes he wondered if, in reality, Phichit was protecting him rather than the other way around. But at that very moment he didn’t mind it too much.

* * *

Yuuri sat between Phichit and Lady Chau in a rather crowded conference room, a calligraphy brush in one hand, and his other guarding his inkpot. Occasionally Lady Chau would brush elbows with him, nearly knocking over his ink as she scribbled hurried notes onto her parchment with a quill-feather.

The oval table they all sat around was comprised of at least five leaf extensions in the darkest cherry color he could imagine wood to be without stain treatment. Yet despite its grandiose size, it was still a tight fit with nobles from around ten different kingdoms, plus the vassals that had accompanied some, such as Phichit.

Yuuri took a moment to thank every God and spirit he could think of that this would be the only day that every representative would be present at the same time.

If he told himself the truth, if he were one of those strangers looking at him from across the table, he would be extremely embarrassed for himself. How odd he must look to the others in the room.

Today he wore his traditional hakama, along with a haori jacket that his mother had gifted him before he left, made from blue silks with a hand painted, twisting form of a dragon sprawled across the fabric in gold.

However, as he discreetly glanced around, there wasn’t a single person here who had any garb remotely similar. There were many fitted jackets, pants with tights, and great, floor-length overcoats, all made in every color he could imagine.

Even Lady Chau, in the traditional garments of her kingdom, wore a long, pink, silk dress with the side cut up to her waist, and a pair of white billowing pants underneath.

Not only that, but he was the only person in the room to be taking notes using a calligraphy brush, rather than a quill; or as he noted from a few of the Western nobles, an angular metal stick he heard was called a pen.

To them, he must look like an ancient animal coming out of a hibernation, only to find its once green glen, a sprawling city.

Phichit shifted in his seat next to him, the crystals of his circlet tinkling softly as he muttered something under his breath as he took furious notes. He was taking this Summit _very_ seriously. They might not have much contact now, but the two ever-expanding empires would likely suffer conflict, and soon, if they did not begin to address one another.

Yuuri lowered his eyes to his page. It was time for him to focus on the task at hand. He was here to help Phichit, not wallow in his own self-pity. No longer did he allow his eyes to roam the room, looking for accusing stares. Instead, he relaxed his body, listening only to the soft hush of the shadows as they slid along the floor with the rise and fall of the sun; the scratching of writing utensils, and the smooth voice of the Emperor as he began delving into his reasons for calling the Western Summit.

He made sure to take careful notes, glossing over some things that pertained only to the Western continent, such as armistices and inter-kingdom peace treaties. Anything that delt with the Eastern continent, he made sure to write in great detail, the quirky symbols of his Kyuunan language falling into neat, vertical lines along his paper, so that his parents could read what transpired here as well.

 _So Kyuu is going to negotiate the use of trade waters and contracts for building international ports_ , he thought to himself as the council ended, while the other nobles were gathering their supplies and talking animatedly amongst one another. It made sense that’s what Rus was looking to get out of Kyuu, and in turn the Ayattuma Empire, since Kyuu was a great mid-point between the Eastern and Western continents.

Lady Chau was preserving their notes with her paper magic to prevent any smearing or creasing. She handed Yuuri his stack back, then took Phichit’s to give it the same treatment.

“Thank you,” he sighed to her.

Lady Chau smiled as she continued with her task, obviously pleased to be of any use.

A shadow fell over his back, and Yuuri could feel the crisp frost of Emperor Viktor’s aura brush against him. For the first time in hours, he twisted around to look up, only to meet the Emperor’s blue gaze.

“Hello Lord Yuuri,” he said in crawling Ruish, obviously hoping that Yuuri would understand if he spoke slower.

Yuuri politely inclined into a seated bow. “Hello, Your . . .” he tried to remember how to address the Emperor in Ruish, but came up blank. Panicked, he shot a look over to Phichit’s seat, only to see that the prince had already moved to the other side of the room to chat amongst the other nobles. “Your . . . Emperor-ness?”

There was a small chuckle from the man, and Yuuri knew he’d messed that up. He waited a moment for the embarrassed flush to leave his face before he sat up to face the Emperor once again.

“I am very sorry,” he said as clearly as he could. “I’m terrible at turns of phrase and some of your words do not have direct translation. But I promise I understand Ruish much better than I can speak it.”

Emperor Viktor’s face seemed to light up with pleasant surprise. “I am most glad at this news!” he said with an easy smile. “I was worried that you would not have gotten much from this council, so I watched you to make sure there would be no confusion, but you looked to be the picture of serenity as you sat painting, your eyes nearly closed.”

Yuuri blinked, his hand unwittingly moving to his stack of notes. A dull ache was beginning to form behind his eyes, but he willed himself to ignore it.

“I was not painting,” he answered, feeling another flush of embarrassment rise to his cheeks. “I simply write more quickly using traditional methods than not.”

“May I see?” the Emperor asked, leaning over Yuuri’s shoulder to get a better view of his notes. His immaculately trimmed bangs fell over one crystal blue eye as he perused what symbols he could see between Yuuri’s fingers.

“Ah, well, yes you may.” Yuuri pulled his hand from his notes and handed the Emperor the top sheet.

Emperor Viktor frowned. “I know some Ayattuman, but this does not look familiar at all,” he confessed.

“Oh! That’s because this has been written in Kyuunan.” He stood and pressed his finger to the top right corner of the page. “It begins here and goes down, reading right to left. I’m told not many languages are read this way any longer – not even in Chizia, where I believe this method was created.” He sighed ruefully at the paper.

“Fascinating!” The Emperor brushed his hair from his eyes, the vibrant blue of his beaded coat catching in the waning sunlight. “I had heard that Kyuu had been in a period of isolation, but it is quite amazing to see history preserved so diligently! I’m a bit envious, actually.”

Yuuri, about to take his note sheet back, stopped and stared at the man. _Impossible_ , he thought. An _emperor_ envious of _him_? He could barely contain his chuff of disbelief.

Their eyes met for a brief second before a starburst of pain pierced his temple. “I apologize,” he said, dropping his gaze to rub the side of his head with a small wince. “I must have been thinking in too many languages today.”

Emperor Viktor, with a similar face of unease, nodded empathetically. He handed Yuuri his notes, about to say something further when they were interrupted by Phichit.

“Greetings Your Excellency,” he interjected with a bright smile.

 _Of course, it was Excellency and_ not _Emperor-ness,_ Yuuri thought with self-disdain.

“I am rather sad that we will only spend four more days in Winter Palace,” Phichit continued as Yuuri turned to gather his notes and subtly drop out of the conversation. “It certainly cannot be enough time to see even a fraction of what Rus has to offer!”

“Oh, Rus is positively seeped with history,” Duchess Mila chimed in, approaching their small group in a breezy walk.

All the other nobles in the room had left to prepare for the coming talks, or to simply finish their daily tasks, leaving only the Eastern delegation with the Emperor and Duchess.

“I know the Eastern delegation has a day of recuperation tomorrow, so I would be delighted to offer you a tour of Winter Palace after lunch,” she continued, her smile easy.

Phichit nodded along, mentioning having just received a basic tour from Captain Popovich, but he was certain that she had much more information and insight about some of the structures and artwork he’d seen.

Yuuri waited patiently behind Phichit, taking the time to survey the shadows around him to while away the time. After a minute or so, he noticed here was one presence that continued to hover around the door. He glanced up to spot the back of Brother Yuri, who disappeared as he leaned against the wall outside of the exit. It didn’t sit well with him, but he let it be for the moment.

Yuuri was snapped out of his thoughts by the sound of someone calling his name.

“Lord Yuuri?”

Phichit, Lady Chau, and Duchess Mila were already nearing the door, engrossed in their conversation.

He looked up to see Emperor Viktor staring at him with a raised brow.

“Forgive me!” Reflexively, he bowed deeply. “I was thinking too much!”

The Emperor chuckled softly and beckoned Yuuri to right himself. “It’s quite alright. Please, Lord Yuuri, I cannot fault you for taking a moment to think.”

He was smiling, and Yuuri noticed that this time it reached his eyes, giving him a more youthful appearance.

“I simply wished to ask if you would join me for tea tomorrow? I would love to hear more about your homeland, if you would be so kind as to humor me.”

“I would, ah, be honored,” he answered with another quick bow, hoping to hide his flustered expression. “But why ask me and not the Prince?” he blurted, unable to keep that confused thought in.

“I will, on a separate occasion, I think. The Ayattuma Empire is known even here, so he is an honored guest, but I had heard nothing about your kingdom until we received response from King Chulanont about your participation. Needless to say, I am endlessly curious about it.”

“Well, in that case, please send for me when you have time.” Another bow. “I apologize again, but I must catch up with the Prince. He mentioned taking me somewhere after tonight’s council.”

The Emperor waved his excuses away. “I look forward to seeing you again, Lord Yuuri.”

“Thank you!”

He all but scurried after Phichit and Lady Chau, relieved to see there were only a few feet out of the room.

Phichit turned and clapped him on the shoulder when he approached. “What took so long?” he asked as they joined with Captain Popovich and Sir Olena, who were waiting to escort them to their separate rooms.

“I’m not entirely sure,” he muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose to try and reduce the throbbing in his head. “But the Emperor invited me to tea tomorrow; something about wanting to hear more about Kyuu.”

“Wow Yuuri. I can’t say I’m too surprised, though.” Phichit shook his head with an affectionate look. “Your enigmatic manners always have a way to attract people, even though it’s the opposite of what you want.”

Yuuri sighed. “Unfortunately. Captain Popovich, are we still going to the training grounds tonight?”

Phichit stretched his arms overhead and yawned into his elbow. “I completely forgot, but I’m afraid that council took more out of me than I had anticipated. Captain Popovich, do you think you can find someone to escort Lord Yuuri to the training grounds?”

“Of course, Your Highness,” came the simpering answer.

“Thank you,” Yuuri said. He really needed to move his body – the rush of exertion and increased circulation should help with his pounding headache.

“Ah,” he started, moving close to Phichit, and dropping into a whisper. “Not to alarm you, but someone has been following us since we left the conference room.”

Phichit looked at him curiously. “Do you know who it is? Is that why you’re okay with splitting up right now?”

Yuuri nodded. He didn’t need to look back to feel the same aura that had been hovering around the council room. “It’s Brother Yuri.”

“Huh. Yes, I doubt he could do anything to either of us.” He tapped his finger to his cheek in thought. “I wonder if he’s trying to find a moment to speak with one of us.”

“Well, he’s certainly being creepy about it.”

Phichit smothered a laugh with his hand. “I’m sure it has something to do with being part of the Church and not exactly a member of government,” he assured. “He cannot openly approach us without raising some questions.”

Once back in their rooms, Yuuri changed out of his formal wear (with a little help from Phichit), and into a simple shirt and pants that were easy to move in. Although the quality was a lot better than he’d normally use to exercise in, his parents pointed out that even when he’s running a mile, there will always be eyes on him, so he must always look the part.

“Sir Alexi will escort you to the training yard, Lord Yuuri,” Captain Popovich told him with a bow as he entered the sitting room. “I ask that you do not take too long, as your dinner will arrive in less than two hours.”

He supposed he could do some improvisation later in his room with pushups and stretches, but he needed the space to run and go through his katas.

“Thank you, Captain,” he said with an inclination of his head.

Sir Alexi was waiting for him in the hall outside of their suite. He gave Yuuri a stoic salute before walking off, his short spear resting over his shoulder, without waiting to see if Yuuri was ready.

Huffing, Yuuri followed close behind the guard. He studied the man’s back for a few paces, trying to decide if he disliked the man because he was suspicious, or if it was because the man was an asshole. Probably both.

They wound their way through several hallways, nearly confusing Yuuri’s sense of direction in the process, but he stubbornly mapped out their progress in his head.

Suddenly Sir Alexi stopped, holding his hand out for Yuuri to do the same. “Apologies, Lord Yuuri. I hear something ahead, please wait here a moment while I check.”

Yuuri frowned but said nothing. Instead, he cast his consciousness towards the shadows to see if he could discern what was happening as Sir Alexi jogged off. He felt nothing out of the ordinary, nor did he hear even a whisper, and was about to call Sir Alexi back when he sensed Brother Yuri approaching from behind.

“I finally got you alone!” a rather shrill voice hissed at his back.

Yuuri spun around, his hands instinctively moving to the kunai tucked against his sides below his shirt. “Huh – Hello?” he stuttered as the short blond strode right up to him, pressing a finger to Yuuri’s chest.

“You need to answer my questions,” Brother Yuri demanded. “No matter how much I think about it, it makes no sense!”

“I – ah, what?”

“Oh Lord! Don’t tell me you can’t even speak decent Ruish? Do you even know what I’m saying? Why the Hell did they send you here if you can’t even do that?”

Yuuri held his hands out in a placating manner and stepped back, overwhelmed by Brother Yuri’s proximity and verbal onslaught. How was he supposed to answer that? Did he even _have_ to answer it? Was there even a valid question under all those words the young man was spouting?

Brother Yuri pressed two fingers to his forehead in an exaggerated show of irritated restraint. “Tell me: Where. Is. Your. Aura?”

Yuuri opened his mouth to answer with, _where it’s always been!_ But nothing came out beyond a surprised squeak. He pressed his hands against his hidden kunai, treading further back into the shadow of a billowing curtain. “I . . . I . . .”

“Oh, dear Yura! How wonderful it is to see you here! I heard Father Feltsman is looking for you in the cathedral.” Mila, who had just rounded the corner with a stack of papers in her arms, said as she dashed up to them.

Brother Yuri flinched back, a scowl marring his teenaged face. “Ugh. What does that old coot want now?” he grumbled, giving Mila a narrow look. “I’m busy right now.”

“Busy?” she scoffed. “Doing what? Interrogating a foreign guest? Are you _trying_ to thwart the Emperor’s efforts of peace?”

“N – No! Of course not, dammit! I’m just trying to _talk_ to him!”

At this point Yuuri had gone passed overwhelmed and was treading panicked territory. While the two Rusi were heatedly arguing in more hushed tones, he took advantage of their inattention to slip into the shadows and cast himself along the route back towards his and Phichit’s shared suite.

He shadow stepped towards the distinct feeling of Phichit’s aura, only pulling himself back into the realm of the living when he was alone in front of their suite’s door.

With a sigh he let himself back in, ignoring the way Captain Popovich dropped into a fighting stance before straightening up with a look of confusion.

“Lord Yuuri? Have you forgotten something?” the Captain asked, once again resuming his post.

“No. I simply didn’t realize how unwell I felt,” he lied with a wave of his hand. “I overestimated my stamina, I think.”

“I see . . . I heard that you had quite a long journey. Long periods of travelling do tend to have a tiring effect that might last a few days.”

Yuuri nodded, moving towards Phichit’s chambers. “Did His Highness mention having plans before dinner?”

Captain Popovich shrugged. “He only said something to the effect of reviewing his notes.”

“Thank you.”

Yuuri knocked on Phichit’s door, waiting for a muffled answer before slipping inside.

“Yuuri, is that you? Why are you back so soon?” Phichit asked, twisting around in his chair with an elbow braced against his desk. The sunlight spilled in from his bare windows at just the right angle to illuminate the mess of papers strewn about the desktop.

Yuuri sighed and allowed himself to collapse onto the nearby lounger. “I never made it to the training grounds, actually,” he began to explain morosely. “Brother Yuri found me first.”

“Anything concerning?”

“Hmm. . . Well, I’m not completely sure. He was talking so fast about – I’m not sure. At first, something about wanting to know if I actually spoke Ruish, but then he shouted, ‘Where is your aura?’” He groaned. Thank you, Brother Yuri, for announcing it to the entire palace. “As if I’d answer such an offensive question in the middle of the hallway.”

Phichit snorted. “I _thought_ he looked young, but that sort of confirms it for me.” He slung his arm over the back of his chair and rested his head on his shoulder. “Strange that a teenager has such a distinguished role in the Church. I wonder if he’s related to the Emperor?”

Yuuri shrugged. “Maybe? Although the Duchess made it sound like the Church only accepted individuals of talent.”

“Ah, so in all likelihood he either has a strong affinity for lightmancy or has a great amount of potential.”

“Probably.”

Neither of them knew what to make of that. At this point, they still weren’t sure if lightmancy was the antithesis of shadowmancy.

“So, how did you get away?” Phichit asked, an amused smile beginning to form on his face. “Please tell me you just shouted something in Kyuunan and ran away in embarrassment. Just to reinforce the belief you can’t speak Ruish, of course. Tactics and all.”

Yuuri rolled his eyes. “ _No_ , I did _not_. Although I’m sure I might have, if Duchess Mila hadn’t appeared, shouting at Brother Yuri about interrogating the guests.”

“She did _not_ ,” Phichit cawed, his smile growing with his delight at the situation.

“She did,” he affirmed.

He was utterly unfazed at Phichit’s penchant for gossip. Knowing everyone’s business, whether or not it could be used in political or social situations, was one of the prince’s favorite pastimes. It was a facet of Phichit’s personality that took him a while to get accustomed to – and to realize that Phichit didn’t necessarily dig like this to further embarrass him. Usually.

“So, when they were busy arguing, I shadow stepped away and back to our hall. Made sure to walk in.”

Phichit chuckled. “I guess you _could_ argue that you just walked away when they were in the heat of the moment,” he mused with a tickled expression. “Somedays there isn’t much I wouldn’t give to just be a fly on your shoulder, Yuuri. You seem to always attract the most interesting people.”

“Interesting doesn’t always mean good.”

“True,” Phichit conceded. “You attracted the attention of Queen Sato Hisa and I can scarcely think of a more despicable person.”

Yuuri’s eyes dropped to his hands, his fingers wringing together. Honestly, he’d rather not think about Queen Hisa. He had been having more and more frequent nightmares of her as of late and he wasn’t keen on bringing those memories to the forefront of his mind while he was awake as well.

As if sensing Yuuri’s discomfort, Phichit breezily moved the conversation on with a lazy twirl of his hand. “Anyway, I hope you’ll tell me how your teatime with the Emperor goes. To be honest, I’m not sure what to make of him.”

Yuuri thought about the times he had met and spoken to Emperor Nikiforov. The polite smiles that didn’t reach his eyes, his imposing presence and direct manner of speech . . . they painted a portrait of a textbook “perfect” noble.

“He seems rather . . . distant,” he mumbled, feeling hesitant. “But he did seem genuine in his interest regarding Kyuu.”

“I agree.” Phichit rubbed at his cheek. “I wouldn’t be surprised if he were trying to gain your favor concerning the trade agreements proposed to Kyuu. It will be beneficial monetarily to Rus, Ayattuma, _and_ Kyuu, but I wouldn’t be surprised if Kyuu declines the sudden development of their port cities by several different kingdoms. If not now, then a few years into the future.”

Even the Ayattuman armies had kept the involvement of their occupation of Kyuu to a minimum, centered only around the capital, Saga, and Kyuu Castle. He had a difficult time envisioning what a town with outside influences would even look like, let alone how foreigners would be welcomed to begin with.

“Look at how hard you’re trying to imagine it! I think your eyes are going to cross in frustration.” Phichit chortled, but his laughter calmed down as he sighed. “It’s one thing to make laws giving access to trade waters and ports, but how the people react is something else. There’s nothing to be gained if the locals chase out or boycott foreign merchants or products, and frankly, Kyuu’s perception of foreigners is at an all-time low.”

Phichit coughed. “ _I wonder why,_ said the foreign occupant,” he mumbled to himself.

Yuuri chose to ignore the sarcastic comment and simply sighed. “We’ll probably need an alliance or something first,” he grumbled, tugging at some of the black hair that swept onto his forehead. He really didn’t have the head for politics.

“It’s likely,” Phichit nodded. “Ah, but that’s a problem for tomorrow!”

“Yes . . .” Yuuri stared at the ceiling, letting a few minutes of quiet lay over them like a comforting blanket. “There is something that has been on my mind all day, however,” he said with a sigh, not entirely willing to break the silence.

“What is it?”

“About the bounty . . . what if that wasn’t the only assassin here in Rus? Am I putting you in danger by being near you?”

Phichit ran his hand through his thick, dark hair, puffing out a hot breath. “We can’t know for certain,” he said ruefully. “But I highly doubt they would ever make me a target, since it seems the bounty has been made by Ayattuman loyalists. So, honestly, you’re probably _safer_ next to me since they wouldn’t dare let me be collateral damage.”

“That would explain why I was attacked in the gardens, at least.”

The prince turned to his desk with a nod, leafing through his papers until he found one that was blank. “I doubt we’ll see any more of that particular danger here in Rus, as it’s unlikely any more of them followed us so far – it’d have been too obvious if there were more, honestly. But in the meantime, I’ll write to my father to see if we can have this bounty rebuked by the crown.”

Yuuri nearly felt himself deflate with relief. He would always be grateful towards Phichit’s proactive attitude. The fact that he was more of a wait-and-see sort of person only made him more stressed out, but neither could he find it in himself to change.

Phichit stood and stretched his arms above his head just as a gentle knock on the door signaled that dinner had arrived.

“Great timing! How about we have dinner together and then we can see how many pushups you can do with me on your back, you know, since you didn’t go to the training grounds today.”

“Please don’t sit on me,” he groaned, standing as well.

“If you can do at least twenty-five, I’ll give you my dessert.”

“Fine.”

* * *

The next day found Yuuri in the sitting room of his and Phichit’s suite. He was puzzling out a book about modern Rusi economics. Or at least that’s what Phichit told him it was about. He was far too distracted by the looming teatime with the Emperor to read it seriously.

He did, however, feel better than he did yesterday. While the stars still twinkled in the early dawn, Yuuri had snuck his way to where Captain Popovich explained the training grounds would be located. The wind had been bitter and thin, but it had somehow reminded him of the mountains of Hasetsu, giving him a sense of calm energy as he ran the forested track.

With a groan, Yuuri stretched himself along the couch, surrendering himself to a nap of boredom.

Earlier, Phichit had taken Captain Popovich and gone off to play a traditional Rusi card game with some of the other nobles who weren’t busy until the evening.

Although they were apart, Yuuri still kept tabs on Phichit’s shadow through the shadowmancer oath, making sure that the prince didn’t telegraph any movements of distress; remaining vigilant even though he knew that Phichit could summon him with a great concentration of magic in case of an emergency. It was thanks to this ability that he didn’t succumb to panic each time he wasn’t in the same room as Phichit for the last three years.

Yuuri’s eyes slid closed, the book between his fingers slowly slipping until it landed with a plop onto his chest – but it wasn’t enough to startle him into wakefulness.

At first, his dream was merciful darkness. It was a soothing sensation, floating about in nothingness, allowing himself to empty his mind of all his fears and worries. It was over soon, however, as he felt his side pressing against something cold and hard – yet familiar.

From a sliver of lamplight that hung over a long ebony table, strode Queen Hisa, a polished ivory cane in her trembling hands.

 _“How_ dare _you lie to me, you piece of filth!”_ Her entire body shook not from fear, but rage. _“Do you think I won’t kill you?”_

 _“I didn’t lie!”_ He heard himself howling, his voice already raw from hours of unheard pleas. _“I swear it was the most accurate information I gathered!”_

The feeling of a heeled shoe pressed into the side of stomach, the point digging into his flesh so harshly, that Yuuri thought it might pierce through him. He whimpered, once more powerless against her.

 _“I’ll not hear another excuse, you rat. Take your punishment and_ learn your place _.”_

He stared at her in horror as she brought the cane back, and then swung it at him with every ounce of strength in her petite body.

Yuuri awoke just before the head of the cane could crash into his face. He leaped from the sofa, his hands reflexively moving to cover his head. The book crashed to the floor with a thud.

He stood in the middle of the room, breathing heavily, a cold sweat dripping down his brow and the back of his neck.

“It was a dream,” he whispered to himself, trying to calm his racing heart. “It was a dream. She is not here. She cannot hurt me.”

After a few deep breaths, he managed to lower his trembling hands from his head to wipe the perspiration from his face. It had been a while since he dreamed of that particular punishment, albeit not long enough. He picked up his glasses from the floor, where they had fallen during his sudden escape from the sofa.

A knock on the door told him that he no longer had time to compose himself, and he straightened with one final gasping breath.

He opened the door, trying to shake off the last of his shivers and smiled politely. “Hello,” he greeted, ignoring the tightness in his throat.

A young serving maid and Sir Alexi awaited him, dropping into a curtsey and salute.

“Good afternoon,” the maid said, keeping her eyes on the floor. “His Excellency, Emperor Viktor Nikiforov the Third, asks for your presence in his sitting room.”

He once again opted to wear a hakama, but decided to forgo his haori, as he only wore it to very formal events. He thanked them with a small inclination of his head and followed them silently as they led him across what felt to be the entire palace.

Yuuri stared at Sir Alexi’s back, somewhat relieved at the presence of the maid since it lessened the chances of him being left alone again. He was still suspicious of the way the guard had abandoned him yesterday to be approached by Brother Yuri – and it appeared he hadn’t even suffered any repercussions for his actions, either.

Deciding it would be best not only for himself, but for the safety of Phichit, he would ask the Emperor or Duchess Mila to replace the man. He shouldn’t feel as if he must defend himself from his own guard.

Plus, he just didn’t like him.

“This is His Excellency’s sitting room,” the maid said once they had arrived at an ornate, silver birch door. “Please wait a moment while I announce your presence.”

She knocked and waited several seconds before cracking it open to say, “Your Excellency, Lord Yuuri Katsuki of the Kyuu Kingdom, Vassal of the Ayattuma Empire, has arrived.”

There was an indistinct answer from inside and the maid fully opened the door, stepping aside with a deep curtsey to allow Yuuri passage.

Emperor Viktor sat in a corner of the room that was partially enclosed by waist-high walls to give the illusion of privacy. The small, circular table before him was already set with tiered trays of pastries, jars of jams, sugar, creams, and honey all aligned in pretty patterns. The Emperor ushered Yuuri over with a wave of his hand and a bright smile.

“I am delighted to see you’ve made it!” he enthused as Yuuri gave a deep bow before delicately taking the seat across from him. “It has been a long morning, and I have been looking forward to taking a relaxing break.”

“I apologize for interrupting your rest,” Yuuri said out of habit.

The Emperor snorted, leaving Yuuri a bit bewildered at the man’s sudden casual attitude. “Did you forget that _I_ invited _you_? How can you possibly be interrupting when you are the awaited guest?”

Yuuri fidgeted with his hands under the table. His dream was still swirling in the back of his mind and draining whatever confidence he possessed. He hated when he was pathetic like this.

“Oh, I think I misunderstood your words a little,” he lied with a smile. “I am looking forward to this as well. Do you often have teatime?”

Emperor Viktor shrugged. “Honestly, no. But I’d heard that it’s quite a common event in the Eastern continent, and some western island kingdoms that used to have a history with Chizia, so I thought you might accept coming if it felt familiar.” He smiled at Yuuri as he leaned back into his chair. “Although I wouldn’t turn down a hot drink and a snack after listening to all the squabbling from this morning’s meetings.”

“Squa – squabbling?” he stuttered to repeat, even more surprised at the Emperor’s easy-going behavior. Was this even the same man?

“Oh! It’s like bickering, arguing, nagging . . .”

Yuuri shook his head quickly. “I apologize, but I know what the word meant. I was unclear. But, ah, is it okay to speak so casually with me? You are an Emperor, and I am . . . not.”

The Emperor’s ice blue eyes studied him for a few intense moments. “I was hoping that we might be friends, although I did not think that my position would intimidate you so, Lord Yuuri. Or . . . have I offended you in some way? To confess, I didn’t think that casual behavior would go against your sensibilities.”

“Oh, no! I’m not offended at all. I’m quite used to it, actually – you _have_ met Prince Phichit, yes?” Yuuri allowed himself a small chuckle. “You simply have been very careful of how you present yourself up to now, that I thought I might have come to meet the wrong man.”

“I see.” Emperor Viktor stood and retrieved a small cart that was laden with teacups and a steaming teapot, taking a moment to set the table. “I simply dislike acting fake behind closed doors,” he admitted after he’d placed their teacups and set the teapot in the center of the table. “It’s tiring.”

Yuuri nodded sympathetically. Although for him it was the opposite – hiding behind manners and formality saved him the exhaustion of sorting through his own thoughts and emotions. “Well, please do not think me offended. And while I am a little intimidated by your title, it does not mean I fear you as a person. And – oh, please allow me to pour the tea – I am told that I am a very formal person by nature, so please do not feel that I am not doing my best to reciprocate your friendliness.”

He poured their tea, moving with a grace that spoke of his years of practice deftly serving hot liquids, and set the pot back onto the rolling cart. Yuuri did his best to smile confidently as he settled back into his chair.

The Emperor was watching him closely now, whether he was contemplating Yuuri’s words, or if he was coming up with a new subject, Yuuri couldn’t tell.

Raising his cup to his lips, Yuuri wondered if all Rusi were so . . . open. Mila had also been quick to ask for friendship, Captain Popovich appeared genuine towards them, and even Brother Yuri – whose intentions were unknown, was as direct as his position allowed. It must simply be a cultural thing.

After taking a couple long, careful sips, Yuuri finally gave in and tried to break the silence. “In Kyuu tea parties tend to be more of a ritual – with certain placements and equipment, and different phases. This set up you have is quite nice. Much less hectic and less moving about.”

“Really?” Emperor Viktor leaned forward onto his elbows, his fingers lacing together under his chin. “I had this set up based on tea parties from Albion, but please, tell me what they’re like in your Kingdom!”

Yuuri spent the next fifteen minutes chatting about tea ceremonies in Kyuu while politely munching a cookie and sipping his very, almost unpleasantly strong, black tea. If he was being honest with himself, it was a little exhilarating to have someone like Emperor Viktor hanging off his every word like this, no matter how strange he found the entire situation.

“It sounds so complex,” Emperor Viktor was saying, “and here I thought some of our etiquette here was a little extreme. It’s a fresh perspective.”

Yuuri’s amused chuckle was interrupted by the sound of a door further in the room being shoved open hard enough to bang against the wall. He quickly assessed the surrounding shadows, but found nothing out of place, or alarming, until something pressed against his stomach and _sniffed_.

“Oh Makka! Did you wake up from your nap so soon? Meet Lord Katsuki Yuuri from Kyuu!”

Yuuri looked down to see a large, curly furred poodle smelling his stomach intently. Chocolate brown eyes looked up at him and he couldn’t resist stroking the dog between its eyes with a gentle finger.

“Well, hello, Makka,” he said carefully. He had read that in some kingdoms the pets of the ruling family were treated as if they held titles themselves. He wasn’t sure if that applied to Rus and what he assumed was Emperor Viktor’s dog, but he decided to err on the side of caution. “It is a pleasure to meet you.”

“She seems to really like you,” the Emperor laughed. “I’ve always known animals to be a great judge of character – Makkachin especially so. You must be an incredibly good person for her to be this friendly so quick.”

“I, well . . . hm.” He faltered. It must be because he smelled nice, since there was no way he was a decent person. Yuuri clasped the dog’s head, rubbing his thumbs along her cheeks so he could peer at her face. “She looks just like . . . a pup I used to have when I was young. Only I don’t remember him ever being this large.”

Emperor Viktor perked up. “Oh? Tell me about him! I didn’t imagine this breed would have reached the shores of the Eastern continent!”

Yuuri sat back and thought, a hand absently scratching Makka behind her ear. He had been gifted the pup maybe a year before he was taken into the guild. A little, curly, brown puppy that lapped at his face and enjoyed nipping at his pantlegs.

“He was an imported breed, but I do not know where from – I was likely too young to understand my parents when they told me. But he was always full of energy and he adored following me around no matter where I went.” He sighed and took his hand from Makkachin. “He passed away a while ago when I was . . . away from home.”

“It always sad to see a friend leave this earth,” the Emperor said sadly. “Makka is my best friend, as silly as that sounds. So, I make sure to treat her like the princess she is.” He took a plain cookie from a platter and broke it in half, holding a section out to Makkachin.

She ambled over and gently took the corner of the cookie, waiting for the Emperor to let go before taking it off into a corner to eat in private.

Yuuri supposed he could see the appeal in having an animal companion. They would be receptive, warm, and soft to the touch, as well as unable to tell the world your secrets. That was more than most humans he knew.

“Princess of the pups,” he agreed, making the Emperor chuckle. “I do hope that’s her correct title,” he muttered, self-admonishing.

The Emperor nearly cocked his head in confusion by the comment but caught on quickly. “If this is about calling me Your Emperor-ness,” he started with a warm smile, “please forget about it. I cannot fault you for a small mistake when speaking your, what, third language?”

“Fourth,” he corrected, feeling his face flush. “But I should have known better. I insulted you, as I should have memorized all of your titles before I even set foot outside of Kyuu with intentions to visit Rus.” He inclined his head once again. “I am so very sorry.”

“Lord Yuuri, please, lift your head.”

Yuuri startled when he felt a cool hand on his shoulder, and even more surprised to see that the Emperor had stretched across a table filled with tea and cakes that could easily stain his exquisite clothing to simply comfort him.

“I have never once been insulted by you or any other member of your delegation. I recognize how difficult it must be for you all to be here, with no personal attendants, guards, or friends. I find you to be remarkable and brave.” He gave Yuuri’s shoulder a firm pat before leaning back. “And as for your comment, I found it endearing, in a way. If you’d like, you may call me Viktor when we are alone or in personal letters.”

“Letters?” he repeated, unable to completely process what was happening. “You want me to write you letters?”

“Why not? I know you’ll be returning home soon, and since I’ve asked you to be my friend, I’d like you to send letters.” The Emperor tapped his bottom lip with a finger looking at Yuuri as if he were a particularly tricky puzzle. “Have I overstepped some boundaries? If so I’m sorry.”

Yuuri shook his head. “I just . . . find it difficult that you can trust me so readily,” he answered honestly. “The, uh, hospitality I have received in Rus thus far is . . .” he trailed off, trying to find the best way to word his uneasiness. “Confusing? Baffling? Um. I feel as if I have walked into a hunter’s contraption.”

“A trap?”

Instead of looking offended or upset at Yuuri’s blatant distrust, Emperor Viktor looked to be highly amused, his finger once again tapping against his lower lip. “I suppose I can understand that you’re still quite leery of me, but there is simply something about you that I find fascinating. You are so quiet, and I can see the way you try and fade into the background, but my eye is always drawn to you. I’m sure this feeling means we’d be excellent friends.”

“This is based on . . . a feeling?” Yuuri rubbed his temples, unable to fathom this man’s actions. Even Phichit was more subtle than this when it came to trying to make him his friend. A sharp lancing pain in his head made him groan with his mounting frustration.

Emperor Viktor also pressed a hand to his forehead.

“Look at us,” the Emperor said with a grimace. “Giving ourselves headaches over something so silly. I think I’ve stolen enough of your time today, Lord Yuuri. If you would please think about what I’ve said and join me for tea again tomorrow, I would be extremely grateful.”

Yuuri stood with a small sigh. If he learned anything today, it was that Emperor Viktor was a very persistent man. “Please send for me at whatever time suits you, as I’m sure you know my schedule,” he said with a parting bow. “I promise to think your proposition over very carefully.”

The Emperor simply shook his head with humor at Yuuri’s choice of words, formally seeing him out of the room and that he would be escorted safely back to his suite.

It wasn’t until he was halfway to his room that he realized he’d forgotten to mention Sir Alexi, although he supposed he would have another chance tomorrow. He was unsure how he felt about that.

Phichit returned that evening in time for dinner, with a list of new acquaintances and potential trade partners the length of his arm. He swept into Yuuri’s quarters, settling himself into the breakfast nook with his dining cart.

“So, how was your time with the Emperor?” he asked, stabbing a slice of beef onto his silver fork. “I’m betting it was a bit uncomfortable.”

“Unimaginably so,” Yuuri said, dropping his head into his hands. “And not for the reasons you’d think.”

“Oh?” Phichit set his fork down and leaned into the table, a conspiratorial twinkle in his eye. “ _Do_ tell.”

Yuuri took a moment to collect his thoughts, pushing his food around his plate with his chopsticks before beginning to eat nervously. “He is completely different behind closed doors,” he confessed between bites. “I thought he might be a little more lax than when in public, but I didn’t expect him to be so . . . overtly _friendly_.”

Phichit blinked rapidly. “What? Explain, please!”

“He introduced me to his dog, asked me to be his friend, told me to call him Viktor in private, and that we should begin to exchange letters,” he listed off, feeling more and more flustered as he went.

Phichit appeared to be stupefied, so Yuuri continued.

“And he told me he is basing all of this . . . _affection_ , on a feeling that we might be good friends. I thought Duchess Mila was forward with her interest, but this was . . . on another level.”

“Wow,” Phichit whistled. “That was _not_ what I was expecting. At all.” Phichit settled into his chair and picked up his fork once more, nibbling at his food.

Yuuri rubbed at his forehead. “And he invited me to another teatime tomorrow.”

Phichit stopped chewing, his eyes focusing on Yuuri for an intense moment. “Oooooh!” he exclaimed, rapping his knuckles on the table. “This might sound off-topic, but while playing cards, I learned that here in Rus, same-sex relationships are . . . hm, rather normal – something about it being against the Lord’s Divine Plan to interfere with soulbonds – I don’t quite understand the concept yet, _but_! Maybe, and just _maybe_ , the Emperor is smitten with you?”

Yuuri’s chopsticks fell from his fingers with a clatter. “ _Phichit_ ,” he hissed. “Please don’t suggest things like that so flippantly! I mean, how could he – how could I –?”

“Okay, okay! I’m sorry!” Phichit tried to smooth out, waving his hands about as if to clear smoke from between them. “That was a pretty thoughtless comment – Yuuri ignore what I just said, okay?”

“I . . .” He exhaled deeply. “Yes. Sorry. I didn’t mean to panic. I guess I don’t like the idea of assuming these things, especially if they involve . . .”

“You?”

Phichit sighed when Yuuri’s posture slumped.

“Well, just between you and me, Yuuri, I know that you’re capable of _and_ deserving of love. Okay? Some people will try to take as much away from you as they can, but they cannot take away your soul. Understand?”

He picked up his plate and moved across the table to sit next to Yuuri, wrapping an arm around his friend’s shoulders. “Just like you and your parents did for me, when I get back to the Sun Palace, I’m going to have a room done up just for you. It’ll have a low table with cute cushions, and tatami mats, and there will be kunai hidden in every corner.”

Yuuri snorted.

“What I’m trying to say is that you’re my best friend in this entire world, no matter how we met, and even without any contracts or oaths. You will always be my greatest friend, and that too, is a type of love. Alright?”

“Okay. Okay,” Yuuri grumbled, although he could feel a smile of relief spreading across his face. “And you’re mine as well, so don’t forget about me when you become the King.”

“As if I could.”

* * *

That night Yuuri lay in his bed, his head throbbing. He felt faintly dizzy and he scrunched his eyes shut in an attempt to chase the feeling away.

_“I promise.”_

He thought he heard someone whisper near his ear.

_“Together.”_

Was he starting to hear spirits now? The Guildmaster had once mentioned that it could be possible, the closer his relationship to the Underworld became.

_“Forever.”_

He began to breathe harshly through his nose in long, meditative breaths, hoping to drown out the sounds with the whisper of his breath. After a few minutes he felt his body relax and finally he managed to drift off into a dreamless sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay. :( Now that the crazy 2020 circumstances are better in my area, I hope to update much more often.
> 
> I hope everyone has a nice holiday season. Thank you for taking the time to read.


	5. Chapter 5

Yuuri sat in a plush chair, his calligraphy brush held securely as he made notes. Phichit sat to his side, making what seemed to be a never-ending bulleted list, while further down on his other side, was Lady Isabella Yang of Nande.

Today was the final day of the Summit’s negotiations. Tomorrow would be the celebration ball, then first thing the following morning, he, Phichit, and Chau would embark on their journey back home. He wasn’t looking forward to another week and a half of travel, but he was impatient to see the shores of Kyuu once more.

“Due to its strategic location, we believe that Kyuu would be an excellent layover for our merchant ships headed for the Ayattuma capital, Sukho, and several other major cities. And as Nande has a favorable trade agreement with Rus, their mercantile ships would also have permission to use Rusi docks.”

Emperor Viktor’s voice washed over him as he noted each word. It was almost strange, seeing how easily the Emperor changed from ridiculously extra to having all the warmth of an ice sculpture. But Yuuri understood why such a strong façade would be needed. He had watched Phichit struggle with the same problems for years. Even a perceived weakness was enough to have nobles trying to exploit it.

“This would be a highly beneficial arrangement for everyone involved,” Phichit was saying, standing as he took his turn to speak. “The only downside is that Kyuu is in a very . . . difficult transition period. The locals are highly distrustful of foreigners. They generally shun foreign technology and products.” He sighed. “Honestly, we cannot put aside the chance that the common people would not react to this treaty with open hostility.”

He turned to Yuuri, holding out a hand towards him, gesturing for him to stand. “If you could give us some insight on this, Lord Yuuri?”

Yuuri stood slowly, attempting to gather his thoughts as he looked over the few people in the room. “To give some perspective, Kyuu has been in a mostly isolated state for around five or six generations – roughly one hundred years, although no one can say for certain. Most of our technology has been created ourselves, or that which we gained through piracy.”

He shrugged, trying not to imagine judgmental stares, and instead focused on Emperor Viktor’s impassive mask. No reaction meant no obvious judgement.

“Foreigners are seen as a menace – far before Ayattuma ever set their sights on Kyuu. There are many tales of brides stolen from other countries by Kyuunan pirates who are hung in their own homes simply for being different; children born with blue eyes are abandoned; and many other atrocities.”

Phichit nervously drummed the pads of his fingers on the table. It was difficult to remember that he had been at the center of such animosity for the three years he’d been living in Kyuu.

Yuuri felt guilty but pressed on.

“I don’t believe things are as bad as when I was a child, but . . . it certainly isn’t favorable.”

He picked up a sheet of notes he’d made before coming, holding it up to skim over some of the ideas he’d jotted down.

“I want to say an alliance with a show of good faith would be the best answer, but it is difficult to discern how to achieve it. Generally, a marriage alliance is the first option, but as the Emperor is the only unmarried royal in Rus, it doesn’t behoove him to move to Kyuu. And Kyuu currently does not have any nobility of sufficient standing to offer.”

“Not until Crown Princess Mari ascends the throne,” Phichit supplied. “But that won’t be for a couple years yet.”

Yuuri shook his head. “And even then, Mari would be unable to leave Kyuu.”

Emperor Viktor coughed politely to interrupt, only speaking once he had Yuuri’s full attention. “Mari? Lord Yuuri, are you on a first name basis with the Crown Princess of Kyuu?”

Yuuri faltered for a moment, trying his best not to nervously fold up the paper in his hands.

“Oh,” he answered weakly. “Um, yes, Crown Princess Katsuki Mari is my older sister.”

There was a general hush around the room and Yuuri thought his knees were going to begin to tremble at any second. Now this was an unfortunate position to find himself in. What were they thinking about him?

“If that’s the case,” Isabella said, carefully breaking the silence with a confused expression. “Shouldn’t _you_ be inheriting? Should you not be Crown Prince?”

Yuuri cocked his head to the side at that question. “No. I am second born,” he lamely supplied, puzzled.

Phichit, ever coming to his rescue, explained. “In Kyuu, succession is only about birth order, not about gender. Female children are just as likely to inherit as male children. It was strange to us as well.”

“Fascinating,” Emperor Viktor said with a small smile. “So then, Lord Yuuri will become Prince Yuuri, given enough time for his sister to become Queen?”

“I . . . I suppose that’s true,” Yuuri murmured. He’d never actually thought about that before and right now wasn’t an appropriate time to ruminate on it.

He cleared his throat, ready to bring the conversation back to the topic at hand. “The uh, other option is to have an exchange program between the kingdoms, whether for school, or simple boarding for cross-cultural exposure. There would need to be a way to guarantee the safety of the individuals who partake, or a form of repercussion.” He sighed. “It would need to be discussed with the higher noble houses present, but I think if we begin negotiations now, something should be in place by the time development of the ports begin.”

Yuuri paused, scanning the room for someone with questions or a rebuttal, but was met with the hiss of pens and quills scribbling. “That’s all . . .”

He sat down, trying to contain his massive sigh of relief. Although he’d tried to propose some ideas for this trade agreement, Yuuri still wasn’t very sure about how well they’d be received. He felt as if all he’d done was deliver bad news and that his ‘insights’ only put a damper on everyone else’s expectations.

“Thank you for that information, Lord Yuuri,” Emperor Viktor said, standing.

Yuuri nodded and picked up his calligraphy brush once again.

“I think we can make a tentative agreement on this day. I propose that we will begin trade in earnest with Kyuu and Ayattuma after Crown Princess Mari takes the throne, and an alliance is in place. A new regime should invite new practices, and since it will be under the power of Kyuu and not forced by Ayattuma, it should have a warmer welcome.” Emperor Viktor pushed his hair from his face. “This deal will be very profitable, and I believe it will be worth waiting for.”

There were nods across the room.

“Let us compose our drafts, then meet in two hours to compile them, so we may sign it into being.”

Yuuri took a few minutes to finish his notes after Emperor Viktor’s dismissal.

Yesterday, between meetings, he had sat down with Emperor Viktor for their second teatime. He had felt much more at ease with Makkachin laying at his feet, as Viktor simply listened to Yuuri speak of his kingdom without interruption. It had to have been the most he’d spoken at once in . . . probably years. He thought that perhaps Viktor had not wanted to come off as overbearing, by letting Yuuri prattle on like that, but by the time he left the Emperor’s sitting room, he had been grateful for it.

He had promised to join him again today, and he wanted to make sure he had enough notes to pass along to Phichit to help him draw up their draft before leaving for his and Viktor’s final tea. It was a little saddening to think it’d be the last one, but Yuuri decided he would do his best to try and enjoy it. If anything, he should leave a positive impression on the Emperor.

Finishing his final thought with a flourish of his brush, Yuuri began to pack up his equipment, sliding his stack of notes towards Lady Chau as she approached to preserve his papers. “Can you give those to Prince Phichit when you’re finished?” he asked, locking away his calligraphy brush and ink in their padded case. “I have an appointment to keep, but all of my thoughts and ideas pertaining to the agreements are written here.”

Lady Chau hesitated briefly. “Are you sure? You don’t want to give more voice to it?”

“No,” he said firmly. “Anything beyond an agreement to continue with our negotiations, whether in person or through letters, is unlikely. I’d rather not waste my breath.”

“Oh.” She gathered his papers into her arms. “I will pass along your message, then.”

“Thank you.”

He stood with a stretch, then tucked his belongings under his arm. A new guard, named Sir Artem, was waiting near the doorway to escort him to his chambers. He wasn’t sure what happened to Sir Alexi, as he hadn’t the time to mention his suspicions to either the Emperor or the Duchess, before Sir Artem presented himself to Yuuri, claiming that Sir Alexi had been relieved of his duty due to unforeseen circumstances.

Not that Yuuri particularly cared for Sir Alexi’s circumstances, but he was leery of the sudden change, no matter if it aligned with his wishes.

Once in his quarters, Yuuri washed his face and hands, debating if he should change out of his hakama. He was tired of formal wear, and even though he knew he’d have to return to their meeting in two hours, could anyone really judge him for wearing something more casual?

He was fairly sure Lady Isabella had been wearing the very basic of beaded dresses today. If he wore a kimono wrap top and a pair of ironed pants, he wouldn’t look _too_ out of place. Although he would be infinitely more comfortable.

Well, today was the final day before the ball, where he would have to be in full dress, he decided it would be worth the risk.

Pulling out a black kimono shirt with hand painted sakura petals from the armoire, he set himself to dressing.

There was a knock on his door just as he finished pulling on his sandals.

“Lord Yuuri, Emperor Viktor has requested your presence in his sitting room.”

Yuuri opened his door and nodded to Sir Artem, who stood waiting. “I am ready,” he said. “Please lead the way.”

It was the third time he was walking these halls, and Yuuri was certain he’d be able to find the Emperor’s sitting room by himself. It wasn’t that long ago that his life depended on his ability to memorize routes and exits during assassinations and reconnaissance.

When Yuuri was granted entrance to Emperor Viktor’s sitting room, the Emperor was already sitting at the tea table, leaning down to scratch Makkachin’s ears while he cooed at her.

“Are you excited to see Lord Yuuri today, Makka? Me too!” he was saying as Yuuri stepped inside, the doors closing securely behind him. “Welcome, Yuuri!”

“Thank you, Your Ex – ah, um, Viktor,” he answered, still uncomfortable using the man’s name so casually.

Mercifully, Viktor ignored his near slip. “You changed your clothes!” he said instead, easily jumping into a topic as Yuuri sat down. “It looks very nice.”

“I, um, thank you,” he said, looking into his lap where his fingers began to nervously twist together. “It’s much more comfortable. I apologize if it doesn’t appear to be sufficiently proper.”

“No, it is quite lovely,” Viktor enthused, smiling as he began setting the table with teacups and plates. “The painted embellishment is beautiful, and the style almost looks modern, but also looks very similar to other Kyuunan outfit’s I’ve seen you wear thus far.”

Yuuri wasn’t sure how to feel about that assessment, but he tried to smile appreciatively, without letting it get too wide.

“Makkachin was just telling me how happy she is to see you again,” Viktor went on as Yuuri moved to pour their tea, already falling into a routine. “She says you are such a good person.”

Yuuri decided not to reply until he had finished serving their tea. He set the teapot back onto the serving cart and settled into his chair. “She . . . _told_ you that?” he asked softly, wrapping his fingers around his warm teacup, hoping that perhaps Viktor wouldn’t hear his somewhat rude question.

Unfortunately, he did. “Of course!” Viktor tapped his lower lip as a bright smile slowly spread across his face. “You didn’t know?”

“Know?” For a moment, panic rushed through his veins. Was there something he was supposed to know? Had he been acting inappropriately due to ignorance?

Viktor nodded, as if Yuuri had actually answered his question directly. “I thought it was common knowledge; or at least a rumor.” He shrugged. “I can speak to animals.”

Yuuri paused, his cup stopping halfway to his mouth. “I thought you were a water mage who specialized in ice magic,” he stated dumbly.

“That is also true.”

How was this possible? Did Emperor Viktor have _two_ magics? Was he bluffing? Would he burst out laughing and ridicule Yuuri if he decided to believe the man?

What was he supposed to do?

“If you don’t believe me, you should whisper something to Makkachin, and I’ll tell you what you said after asking her.”

Viktor looked way too pleased with the situation for Yuuri’s taste.

“If that’s what you wish,” Yuuri complied, feeling skeptical. He called for Makkachin, patting his knees until her nose brushed against his hands. Leaning down, he stroked her head and whispered, making sure to cup his hand over his mouth. “I think Viktor is a bit of an unusual man. You need to take care of him, okay?”

Makkachin made a happy boof noise and licked his nose before retreating towards Viktor.

“What did Yuuri say, Makka?” Viktor asked, taking the dog’s ears into his hands, and giving them a good-natured shake. “Oh? Well now!”

He turned to look at Yuuri with an unbearably smug expression. “You think Makkachin needs to protect me?” he asked, his hands still stroking the poodle.

Yuuri felt his stomach drop. Oh, he hadn’t thought this through. Why did he say something so stupid and _insulting_ when there was the smallest chance that what Viktor said was the truth? Gods, he just mocked an Emperor – _to his face_.

“And you find me to be unusual?” Viktor continued, sounding amused.

Oh, but what that was fake cheer? Gods, the Emperor was probably seething under that mask of humor.

He gripped his teacup tightly, willing it to not break under his stress.

Frantic, Yuuri began to pull as much magic towards himself as he could, fully intent on creating a shadow portal to the other side of the world, because honestly, everyone would be better off if he weren’t there to _ruin_ everything.

Why did he keep making such _stupid_ mistakes?

“Yuuri! Calm down, Yuuri.”

He had no idea when Viktor had moved next to him, but when Yuuri looked over, the Emperor was kneeling on the floor to look Yuuri in the face.

When had he started breathing so heavily?

Viktor reached out and grasped Yuuri’s hands, carefully pulling them from his teacup and pressing their palms together.

At the touch, Yuuri felt as if all the tension in his body snapped at once. Like a puppet whose strings had been cut, his body crumpled forwards, and he released all the magic he’d been gathering.

For a brief second, Viktor looked as if he’d been slapped by the sudden exhalation of magic, likely tinted with the damp sensation that was associated with Yuuri’s magical aura.

“I’m so, so sorry,” Yuuri pleaded, slowly catching his breath. He felt burn of unshed tears in the corner of his eyes but willed them to stop.

Strangely, his head felt so _light_ and _clear_. The headache that had been forming for the past few hours seemingly dissipated, and he felt as if he had just run up the slopes of Hasetsu – his breaths becoming deep and filling. Everything came into focus.

“You have nothing to apologize for,” Viktor said, his voiced hushed as he brushed his thumbs over Yuuri’s knuckles, soothing.

Yuuri shook his head with a self-depreciating sigh. “I didn’t take you seriously,” he bemoaned, “so I said something in jest, and I insulted you, not just with my words, but with my lack of belief.” He closed his eyes, unwilling to look into Viktor’s honest face. “And I was about to run away . . .” he whispered.

Viktor hummed, but didn’t respond, simply continuing to rub circles into the back of Yuuri’s hands.

“It’s okay to be wrong, sometimes,” Viktor said after a few minutes of calming silence. “Mistakes help you learn.”

Yuuri closed his eyes, feeling utterly miserable. “I’ve learned that mistakes kill people,” he muttered.

Before Viktor could question him further, he pulled his hands away, immediately missing the calming touch. “I’m sorry for ruining your teatime,” he said.

“Please, no more apologies, Yuuri. You are my guest; I want you to feel accommodated, not stressed.”

Yuuri huffed out a sound somewhere between an incredulous laugh and a sigh of resignation. “If Prince Phichit were here, he’d say something snarky about my constate state being that of stress.”

Satisfied that Yuuri no longer appeared ready to sprint from the room, Emperor Viktor slowly returned to his chair. “Are you close to the Crown Prince of Ayattuma?” he asked, trying to find a safe subject.

“Hm.” Yuuri raised his teacup to his mouth, hoping to calm his nerves further. “Yes, I suppose you could say that.” He set the cup down and picked up a cookie, pulling it to pieces so he could pop them into his mouth individually. “We’ve only known each other for three years, but still, I consider him a . . . dear friend.”

Viktor nodded. “With some people, time means nothing in comparison to your feelings. Just the same as you can have no feelings for someone you’ve known your entire life.”

“Yes.” Yuuri stared down into his cup, the tea rippling inside as he drummed a finger on the lip.

“I want to apologize again,” he started, looking up at Viktor with a small scowl, in hopes the other man wouldn’t interrupt him. “You may have noticed,” he continued when Viktor pursed his lips, but nonetheless leaned forward to listen, “that I’m not the most social person. I have a lot of . . . anxieties when it comes to . . .” he waved his hand a bit, as if to encompass everything. “Well, a lot of things.”

He sighed, trying to expel all nervousness, then popped a bit of cookie into his mouth, taking a moment to choose his words. “So, I’d also like to thank you. For being patient with me. For making me feel welcome. You didn’t have to. But you did. Thank you.”

Viktor brought his palms together, pressing the sides of his forefingers to his lips as he took a long, uncomfortable moment to think.

Yuuri thought he could feel a cold sweat begin to break out on the back of his neck but didn’t dare look away from the Emperor’s serious expression.

“Thinking on it,” Viktor said, laying his hands out on the table, “I normally would not accept such behavior, or continue to invite such a person to meet like this.”

Yuuri swallowed thickly.

“However, there is something about you. You continuously draw my attention, even when it’s painfully obvious you’re trying to escape it.” Viktor gave a breathy laugh, as if the idea of someone trying to avoid him was entirely novel. “I wanted to be upset about it, but Makkachin told me something about you after our first meeting.”

“I, ah, what . . . what did she say?” he asked, his voice trembling.

Viktor smiled, but all Yuuri saw on his face was pity. “She said you smelled of fear and sadness.”

“Oh.” That hurt to hear.

“Ever since I’ve wanted to ask you about it, but . . . it’s not exactly a teatime appropriate conversation.”

Yuuri pushed some of the cookie pieces around his plate, his stomach too tense to eat. “You’re right,” he said softly, “it isn’t. Maybe . . . I can find the courage to tell you in a letter.” He gulped down his nervousness. “You deserve to know . . . if you want to be my friend.”

Viktor’s smile turned relieved as he stood. He stepped to Yuuri’s side and held out a hand. “I am glad we will continue to be friends. And to make it clear now, you will always be welcome in Rus, so please make plans to visit us again someday.”

Yuuri grasped Viktor’s hand, using it to pull himself to his feet before letting go. “I will do my best,” he said, unwilling to make promises when he was already so unsure of his future.

“I will ask for nothing more than that.” Viktor’s smile was bright once again. “Alas, I must take the next hour to revisit my drafts of our agreement. We’ll have to part here . . . unless you want to help me?”

“Ah, no,” Yuuri answered with an awkward cough. “I have little else to contribute to the topic if I’m honest. I dislike wasting time – mine and others’.”

“Your opinion is not a waste of time,” Viktor tried to argue, but Yuuri shook his head firmly.

“I’m not saying that. What is the phrase . . . it would be, um, fighting a dead horse.”

Viktor made an unattractive snort, quickly covering his mouth with his hand. He cleared his throat. “Do you perhaps mean _beating_ a dead horse?” he asked, voice trembling.

“Probably.”

“Well, you might be right,” he went on, clearly trying to hide his amusement. “I simply wish for it to be perfectly clear, so that there is no debate in the future if the terms are to be upheld or not.”

Yuuri fiddled with his glasses. “I will do what I can to remind my sister of its importance when the time comes, if you like. She is a very sensible person, and exceptionally reliable.”

“Thank you, Yuuri. Somehow, that does make me feel better.”

Yuuri found himself smiling as he moved towards the door. “I know it’s not much, but you’re welcome.” He placed his hand on the door’s handle. “And . . . I’m a little sad to be leaving. So, I hope to chat with you a little more at the ball tomorrow, Your Excellency.”

“I would enjoy that.”

Once he was back in his room, Yuuri collapsed onto his bed, watching time tick down on an ornate clock by the vanity. It was almost over.

He wasn’t quite sure how he felt about that anymore.

* * *

The celebration ball was far grander than Yuuri had been expecting. Winter Palace had a massive ballroom, with ceilings high enough that it nearly made him dizzy trying to guess how many stories it might be.

Crystal chandeliers lit with mage-fire dangled from the ceilings, and an impossibly tall stained-glass window, portraying what Yuuri assumed to be a likeness of Rus’ God figure, allowed the final rays red, yellow, blue, and golden light to scatter pleasingly around the room, before the world was plunged into night. Tapestries, intricate murals, and inset statues adorned the walls, leaving Yuuri a little breathless at the sheer amount of opulence the entire affair exuded.

Phichit was on his right, with Lady Chau on Phichit’s other side. They stood at the top of a staired platform, waiting for their entrance to be announced. Captain Popovich, Sir Artem, Sir Olena, and Sasha all stood behind them as their escorts.

“Can I consider this to be a late birthday party?” Phichit whispered to Yuuri, his eyes nearly sparkling as he took in the room and the crowd below. “I can pretend, right?”

Yuuri smiled benignly, trying to look as if his heavily embellished haori and hakama weren’t bothering him in the slightest. “If you want.”

Phichit gave a soft, yet dramatic sigh. “We shall remember this party as Phichit’s most grand birthday ball. No one but us will know what we’re talking about. It’ll be great.”

“Presenting Prince Phichit Chulanont of Ayattuma, Empire of the Sun, and his vassals, Lady Tran An Chau of Viama, and Lord Katsuki Yuuri of Kyuu. Please be welcomed!”

They descended together, their full regalia swishing, clinking, and rustling as they moved. At the base of the stairs, they all split, moving to different areas of the ballroom. It was custom for groups to separate at the beginning of a party, to make them more approachable for new acquaintances.

Yuuri, who had not been pleased to learn about this particular practice, tried not to scowl as he immediately headed towards a corner of the room where he felt he might have the best vantage point.

Only a few more groups were to be announced after them. The general order being those of least import enter first, then lead up to the most important. Emperor Viktor would be the last to enter with a speech, then the party would begin in earnest.

Habitually, his eyes began to scan the crowd, watching hands and examining clothing for concealed weapons.

Emperor Viktor had just begun his speech at the top of the stairs when someone slid next to him. They stood together in silence as the Emperor spoke, Yuuri refusing to acknowledge them for the time being. He had to keep Phichit safe.

“I need to speak with you,” the person said the moment Emperor Viktor finished his speech and the light applause had started. “It’s _extremely_ important.”

Annoyed, Yuuri finally looked over, not at all surprised to see Brother Yuri scowling at him. “How can I help you?” he asked stiffly.

“You can answer my questions, is what you can do,” the teenager growled out, trying awfully hard not to be overtly angry or snarky. It was likely that he had correctly assumed that Yuuri would flee as soon as he let his emotions out of hand.

Yuuri raised a brow. “There are more now?”

Brother Yuri looked as if he wanted to smash his head into the wall.

“Yes! There are _so_ many! It’s driving me insane!” He took a moment to breathe in through his nose and out of his mouth, smoothing his expression as much as he could. “I’ll start with this: did you know, as a user of Holy magic, I can see a person’s aura? I can see if they’re lying if I focus hard enough. I can heal aura sickness. But I cannot, no matter how much I try, see yours. Why?”

Yuuri cocked his head to the side, contemplating how he should answer. Judging from the strategic placement of guards, likely those of Brother Yuri, Yuuri doubted he would be able to escape this conversation today.

“I’m not sure,” he decided to say. “I know that my aura prevents the effects of mind magic, but the reasoning behind it is also a mystery to me.”

“Holy magic is _not_ mind . . .! You know what, never mind. I should’ve expected you to say something like that.”

Yuuri thought to apologize but thought better of it. Brother Yuri looked as if he might lose his mind at any moment. Best not to speak unless asked a direct question.

Yuri ran a hand through his flaxen blond hair, huffing. “Now, this is _extremely_ important. Did you know you have a soulbond with the Emperor?”

Yuuri felt as if someone threw freezing water into his face. “A wha – a _what_?” he stuttered out. “That’s absurd.”

“Hm.” Brother Yuri crossed his arms, narrowing his eyes to stare at Yuuri as if he were trying to see through him. “Well, it’s not a soulbond,” he said after an agonizing minute.

“What?” At this point Yuuri would give his right leg to escape the conversation. He didn’t think he could handle this kind of verbal whiplash much longer.

“Well, not a true one. Maybe it’s a partial bond. Huh.” Brother Yuri brought his arms down, his hands disappearing into the billowing sleeves of his ceremonial white robes. “It’s hard to say what it actually is, but you _do_ have some kind of bond with Viktor. I can see it emanating from him and going towards you, but I cannot see if it’s _connected_ to your aura.”

Yuuri fidgeted with the waist of his hakama. “I’m not entirely sure what you mean, but . . . thank you for telling me?” He coughed. “I don’t know what to do with this information.”

“Fucking figure out your magic, obviously,” Yuri snapped. “I don’t know what kind of weird mind magic you possess, but you better make sure it’s not harming Viktor or else I’ll –!” he cut himself off a sharp inhale. “Just figure it out. _Now_.”

Social nerves already frayed, Yuuri watched Brother Yuri stomp off into the crowd, grateful when no one tried to approach after.

He searched around for a waiter with a tray of filled champagne flutes. He approached one that was lingering on the outskirts of the crowd. “A glass, please,” he said, catching the waiter’s attention.

The waiter lowered the tray to him, slightly bowing in the process. Yuuri grabbed a flute, just as a gloved hand reached for the next one over.

“Hello Lord Yuuri, how nice to run into you again.” Duchess Mila pressed her glass to her red painted lips, smiling. She took a small sip, then grasped his arm in an escort position, pulling him towards a more secluded area by the orchestra pit. “It’s been so difficult to have more than a few words with you, I was worried you might leave tomorrow without having one more good chat with me.”

Yuuri frowned, glancing around as he tried to find the right words. “I never meant to avoid you, Mi – Mila,” he said, hushed, despite the music covering their conversation. “Coming here has helped me realize I need to learn better time management.”

Mila giggled, covering her mouth with her champagne. “Oh, Yuuri, I know that! Every time I inquired after you, you were either being called upon by the Emperor, at the training grounds – and honestly, our knights mentioned being impressed by your dedication – or pouring over notes with Prince Phichit. Speaking of whom, the Prince is just _delightful_. I had a wonderful time playing cards with him the other day.”

“Yes, Prince Phichit has a way of making any event much more entertaining,” he agreed.

“Mhm. He also told me a fun story about someone in Kyuu who got caught hiding in a closet, covered in flour after having accidentally touched –”

“O-oh! Well, that’s not a story worth repeating!” Yuuri interrupted, his face burning with embarrassment. Of all the mishaps they’d been through, Phichit had to choose _that_ one to regale? “I . . . I, um. Please keep that a secret. To this day I’m mortified by it.”

Mila laughed again, her dark blue eyes practically dancing with mirth. “I suppose, though, if dear Viktor asks me what I know about you . . .” she trailed off with a devilish expression.

“You know, since we are such great friends,” Yuuri blustered, nearly forgetting to keep his voice down, “I think I will find you a lovely gift from Kyuu to send you. Please tell me what sorts of gifts you like to receive.”

In other words: _let me buy your silence_!

“Oh, I’ve always been quite fond of pretty things,” she said, teasing. “But enough of that. Yuuri, have you enjoyed it here in Rus? I admit I’m sad to see you’re leaving. This week has felt incredibly short.”

Yuuri gave a soft smile, his eyes returning to the crowd. “Yes,” he murmured. “I was worried at first, but Rus, for as frightening as the rumors back home make it seem, has an inexplicable charm.” He sighed. “It has grown on me.”

Mila began to say something else, but Yuuri’s attention was drawn away from her. The hairs on his arms stood up as he scouted out the chaos of shadows in the ballroom. Uneasiness blanketed him, but he was unable to tell why exactly he felt that way.

“Something’s wrong,” he said, interrupting whatever Mila was saying.

She frowned and moved closer to him. “What is it?”

“Not sure yet.”

He scanned the room. A servant went to a kitchen exit and attempted to open it, looking confused when the wooden door wouldn’t budge. “Are the doors supposed to be locked?” he asked Mila in a whisper.

“Definitely not.”

Alarmed, Yuuri pulled himself onto his tiptoes, attempting to find Phichit over the guest’s heads. “I need to find the Prince right away!”

Before he could take another step, there was an ear-piercing bang, something akin to the small firecracker booms that he used to hear Mari make to startle servants when they were younger, only much, much louder.

Reflexively he grabbed Mila’s arm and pulled her into a half-crouch. “Hide yourself!” he shouted over the chorus of panicked screams from the surrounding guests. “Try to find out how many there are and inform the Emperor!”

Mila, though trembling, nodded resolutely and began disappearing.

Yuuri turned away from her and pushed his way into the writhing crowd, following Phichit’s shadow as if it were a beacon.

“Rus is not welcome to foreigners!” A voice boomed over the ballroom, projected through air magic. “All foreigners prepare to suffer the consequences of trying to compare yourselves to your _betters_!”

The sound of metal clashing against metal began to resound throughout the ballroom, telling Yuuri that sword fighting had begun. _They are attempting to kill foreigners only, so they shouldn’t use any magic that can hit a large area_.

Sheets of ice rose from the floor, covering the doors and windows to prevent any escape. “Capture the intruders!” He heard Emperor Viktor shout, his voice as clear and frigid as the ice he summoned. “Do not allow a single guest to come to harm!”

Groups of innocents were slowly being encased behind walls of ice for their protection. Yuuri knew it was a good move, but it would take too long to discern friend from foe, leaving large groups vulnerable at the same time. He also wasn’t sure how much ice summoning Viktor could handle at once, so he simply couldn’t rely on him to help Phichit.

A statue of a fat, baby angel flew passed him, nearly crushing into his leg as he shoved his way through waves of confused nobles and servants alike. He tried to read the shadows, but it was all hectic, most shadows being cast by humans, rendering them useless to him for shadow stepping.

On the other side of the room, he could see people beginning to duck and wave their hands about their faces as if they were being assaulted by bees or thick clouds of smoke. _Phichit must be near there_ , he thought, just as people began to shout, “is there a fire?!”

Unaffected by the mass confusion his friend was able to produce, he tried to spot Phichit through the panicked crowd, but to no avail. Phichit must be controlling the consciousness of at least three dozen people, an extraordinary feat. And a great way to create a protective wall of chaos.

A heavy hand clamped down onto his elbow and Yuuri whirled around to see a man in the glittering armor of Rus’ royal knights. He would have been confused if it weren’t for the dark expression on the man’s face, making his intentions very clear.

“I hope you’re ready to die, Eastern trash,” he spat, his other hand pulling a short sword from his belt.

_Is this some kind of rebellion_? he thought, panicked.

Glancing up, he noticed that they were in the shade of an overhanging balcony, where children and elders of the royal family would rest during celebrations

Quickly he dropped down into the shadows, his arm passing through the knight’s harsh grip. Ignoring the man’s surprised cursing, he reached out from his hiding place, willing his arm into solidity before grasping the man’s ankle. Then he rose just as fast as he’d disappeared, flipping the man onto his back.

Corporeal once again, Yuuri stomped on the man’s raised leg, ankle still firmly in his grasp, and shattered their kneecap.

The knight screamed, quickly moving to hold his leg close to his body once Yuuri dropped it. “Die, you freak!” he shouted, raising a hand at Yuuri.

Feeling the building sensation of fire magic, Yuuri promptly slipped a kunai out of his sleeve and flung it at the man, turning to run into the crowd after watching the blade bury itself into the man’s bicep, successfully interrupting his spell.

Overhead, Chau’s familiar red and gold folding-fan rose towards the chandeliers, being carried by an entourage of paper cranes. It began to fan at the flames in the candleholders, pushing great gusts of wind over the fire and snuffing them out.

Phichit must have told her to make it darker in the room to give Yuuri a better advantage.

More and more shadows became accessible to him. He didn’t waste a moment before he delved back into the shadow’s passageways, not looking back, even when a chunk of stone crashed into the floor where he disappeared. He rushed towards Phichit, feeling his friend begin to waver.

He threw his magic out to Phichit’s shadow and anchored himself, pushing himself back into the world through the small, darkened space in front of the prince.

“Your mind tricks won’t work on me any longer, filth!” Yuuri heard a muffled voice say through the sound of sweeping water as he emerged from the in-between world. “Your death will allow us to begin the destruction of the Eastern Empire!”

Phichit was kneeling on the ground, his entire body quivering with the strain of continuing his illusions. A thin trail of blood leaked from his nose to drip off his upper lip.

Acting on instinct, Yuuri threw himself between Phichit and the royal knight that stood over him. A silver dagger was poised above the man’s head, ready to drive it into the prince.

“Phichit!” he shouted, stooping over his friend, even as the shivers from the sudden transition of freezing depths to the warmth of a room cramped with bodies wracked his body. He protectively wrapped his arms around Phichit’s head, putting his back to the Prince’s attacker.

The hollow clink of metal hitting bone resonated in his ears. A searing pain traveled from his left shoulder to his elbow.

“How the fuck?”

Taking advantage of the assailant’s confusion, Yuuri pulled a kunai from the waist of his hakama with his right hand. He grasped it in a reverse hold, the point towards his forearm. Then, putting all his strength into a backhand swing, he spun around and jabbed the kunai’s blade into the junction of the man’s neck and shoulder.

There was a light of recognition in the attacker’s face as they gagged from the pain, red rivulets of blood beginning to trickle down the front of their chest.

It was Sir Alexi.

In what he could only describe as a fit of rage, Yuuri twisted the kunai deeper, almost relishing in the silent scream that was torn from Sir Alexi. He ripped the kunai out, knowing at this point the man would likely only live a few minutes before he bled out.

Sir Alexi stumbled backwards a few paces, then collapsed onto the ground, blood slowly pooling around his gasping body.

The chaos around them was beginning to dim as the assailants were captured by a coordinated effort from royal knights, battle experienced bystanders, and Emperor Viktor.

Ice slowly crept upwards around him, Phichit, and Lady Chau, who had fallen to his side as her body rocked with frightened tremors. In moments they were incased in a protective bubble of ice, the sounds of the ballroom muffled through what Yuuri noticed had to be at least a few inches of frozen water.

Yuuri dropped to his knees when Phichit coughed and spat out a wad of dark blood onto the stone floor. The prince had gone far over his magical limit.

Phichit’s arms wound around his waist and he pressed his face to Yuuri’s chest. His body began to quake with whimpers and uncontrollable sobs.

“It’ll be okay,” he croaked out, pulling the lapels of his haori around Phichit to hide his tears from view. He was hyperaware of the knife that still protruded from his shoulder, but he knew better than to try and remove it until there was a healer available.

He tried to be strong for Phichit, but as he held his weeping friend, he couldn’t stop the steady stream of tears that cascaded down his own face. He had been so scared – absolutely terrified that Phichit was moments away from death; that he wouldn’t have made it on time. That Phichit’s death would’ve been his fault.

“Prince Phichit, Lord Yuuri, Lady Chau, are you all alright?”

Yuuri looked up to see Emperor Viktor through the thick ice, his visage slightly striated, but still clearly visible.

Viktor was sweating from effort, his hair disheveled, and his expression on the verge of panic. He gasped once he caught a glimpse of the silver dagger protruding from Yuuri’s back. “Lord Yuuri! Please hold on just a little longer! The Captain is rounding up all the intruders as we speak. I’ll let you free as soon as the entire ballroom has been declared safe!”

“I will be fine,” he groaned out, using his uninjured hand to stroke Phichit’s hair.

After Viktor hurried away, Yuuri looked down at Phichit, whose inconsolable sobs had quietened to the occasional snivel. “I think it’s over,” he murmured, also trying to give Lady Chau a look of relief.

Chau sat clutching her fan to her chest, face impossibly pale. She gave him a small nod but said nothing.

Phichit finally pulled away from him, his face covered with tears, blood, and snot. He took a silk handkerchief from his breast pocket and began to wipe himself clean, unable to look anywhere but the floor.

“Sorry I came so late,” he whispered, wincing when Phichit glared at him.

“You were right on time,” Phichit said, breathing in deeply. “I knew you would come. Didn’t doubt it for a second.”

Yuuri almost started to cry again, the sheer weight of Phichit’s trust momentarily crushing his chest. “Honestly, I wouldn’t have if it hadn’t been for the shadow oath.”

He had to stay conscious. His arm felt numb, but also warm from the blood that was soaking into his sleeve. Talking through the pain seemed like his best bet right now. “Phichit, I knew that Sir Alexi was up to something, but I didn’t say anything. I thought I was just being paranoid.”

“I did, too,” Phichit muttered, moving to examine the knife. “That’s pretty deep . . . doesn’t look like it hit anything vital, though.” He sighed, deep and cleansing. Yuuri recognized it as a trigger for his princely façade. “I spoke with Duchess Mila about him. I thought the problem had been solved once he was dismissed from our service. Yuuri, don’t move!”

Yuuri gasped as the fingers of his left hand twitched involuntarily, causing a spike of pain to travel through his arm. “Sorry. I’m . . . I’m trying to stay focused.”

Lady Chau crowded into them, resting her hand gingerly on Yuuri’s uninjured arm. “As soon as we’re done here,” she said softly, her voice still trembling, “I will send a letter to the _Nami Maru_ that the water mages be ready to treat you.”

“Thank you.”

The ice around them began to crack, the noise echoing around them. Instead of chunks of ice falling on their heads, it began to melt, misting them as the water dissipated into the air around them.

Emperor Viktor was kneeling at his side in seconds, his hands gently examining Yuuri’s injury. “I’m not the best healer,” he said apologetically, “But I’m the only one here right now, so please bear with me, Yuuri.”

Phichit took a black, braided leather bracelet from his wrist, passing it to Yuuri. “You can bite on this.”

Yuuri nodded and placed the softest parts of the bracelet between his teeth, bracing himself for the pain of the dagger’s removal. He nodded at Viktor, letting him know that he was ready.

“I’ll make it quick.”

Viktor wrapped his hand securely around the dagger’s handle, then after a moment’s hesitation, he yanked it out with a grunt.

Yuuri moaned, biting down hard on the leather bracelet. If his mouth had been empty, he was sure he would’ve been cursing in every language he knew.

“The worst part is done,” Viktor murmured, hushing him with a soothing noise. A piece of crystalline clear ice formed in the palm of his hand, and he gently pressed it against the bleeding wound. It slowly melted down, the frigid water making its way down into the gaping hole of Yuuri’s flesh and beginning the process of rejuvenation.

The hot, prickling sensations of water healing was all too familiar to Yuuri, so he bent his head, jaw locked on the bracelet as he tried to keep still for Viktor. A few pained tears escaped his eyes by the time the Emperor finished healing with a declaration of: ‘that’s the best I can do.’

Yuuri took the bracelet from his mouth, trying to will his hand to stop shaking, and stuffed it into the waist of his hakama for the time being.

“Thank you, Viktor,” Yuuri said, voice hoarse. He sat up and tried to flex his fist, wincing at the spike of pain that pierced his shoulder. It looked like his body still needed some time. However, it was much less painful than he assumed it would be. Viktor seemed to be a rather competent healer, despite his earlier words.

Phichit sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “Your Excellency, thank you for helping Lord Yuuri, but at the moment I believe we all need to rest.” He was staring at the ground, an upset expression on his face. “We will delay our departure in the morning to discuss tonight’s events, in the meantime, is there anywhere safe in this palace for us to sleep?”

Viktor, despite the obvious accusation towards his safekeeping abilities, nodded in understanding. “There is a suite near my rooms that are generally meant for visiting relatives, but I think this can be an exception to protocol.”

Chau and Phichit both helped Yuuri to stand, each one keeping a hand on his back. Lady Chau picked up his discarded kunai and subtly tucked it back into his hamaka, alongside Phichit’s bracelet.

He looked up at Viktor with a shaky smile, nearly overwhelmed with relief – relief to still be alive; that Phichit was unharmed; that Viktor wasn’t a part of the attack.

“You!” Brother Yuri appeared, having finished escorting his share of the guests from the ballroom, his footfalls a loud slap against the stone floor. “I saw you! I saw what you _did_!” he sputtered, outraged.

Yuuri, at this point, already knew that his abilities would no longer remain a secret, attempted to shrug in indifference, but instead winced in pain.

“You are a shadowmancer!” Yuri went on, shoving a finger towards Yuuri. “I saw how you became shadow – they said that foul magic had been erased from this world!”

Viktor clicked his tongue, looking rather annoyed. “Yuri,” he nearly hissed, pushing the teenager’s finger down and away from Yuuri. “This is neither the time nor place. You also may _not_ persecute guests of the Empire for their culture.”

His blue eyes were hard, and Brother Yuri had the sense to appear chastised. “Return to your duties.”

“Bu – but! He’s dangerous! We don’t know what he’s even capable of!”

Yuuri turned to Phichit with a sigh. “I’m tired. Is it okay if I just tag along?”

Phichit gave him a sympathetic smile. “Yeah. Don’t overdo it, alright?”

“Says the pot to the pan.”

“To the kettle, Yuuri. To the kettle.”

Yuuri gave a breathy laugh before dropping himself into Phichit’s shadow, letting the cool comfort of the land between wash over his senses.

He ignored the indignant squawk made by Brother Yuri, and simply allowed Phichit to pull him along. It was a bit of a drain on his magic, but if he refrained from manipulating Phichit’s shadow, he could conserve some energy. This would be much easier than walking.

Yuuri didn’t pull himself out of Phichit’s shadow until they were alone in an overly decorated bedroom. His muscles ached from being so tense for far too long.

Lady Chau had retired to her own room in the suite, claiming that she would be composing a few letters before sleeping.

Captain Popovich remained with them, despite his armor being scuffed and dented in a few places. Yuuri was sure he saw a splattering of blood on his metal grieves but said nothing. He doubted anyone would be getting much sleep tonight, least of all the Captain.

Phichit threw himself onto the ridiculously plush bed, rubbing his eyes with the heels of his hands. “I don’t think I can stay conscious for much longer,” he said, voice cracking. “Where are you going to be?”

Yuuri laid himself onto a dramatically carved lounger, pleasantly surprised to find it stuffed with feathers, much like the one he had in Kyuu. “Right here,” he said, deftly catching a pillow that Phichit threw his way. “Magically, I’ll be fine. Luckily, this happened after the sun had set, so I’ll probably be fine come morning.”

“Try to sleep,” Phichit grumbled before he descended into snores, no longer able to fight the bone-dry exhaustion that is magical depletion.

Yuuri closed his eyes for meditation, letting the hours pass by as he drifted along with the flow of the shadows, constantly monitoring their positions.

* * *

The morning found Yuuri in his old quarters, packing a hasty suitcase before going to meet with the Emperor. The servants had done much of the work with his wardrobe, but he refused to allow anyone to touch his more personal possessions.

His hand came to rest on a small wooden box roughly the size of his palm, made from Kyuunan cypress. He traced the hand painted shell pattern that covered the lid, then slipped the box into the pocket of his jacket.

Once he was positive that he had gathered all his belongings, he sent his luggage along with Sasha.

He sat in the sitting room with a hot cup of tea, waiting for Phichit to finish as well. Captain Popovich had been replaced by Sir Artem for some much-needed sleep, but Yuuri wasn’t inclined to strike up a conversation like Phichit would.

“That’s the last of it. Thank you, Sasha.” Phichit entered the sitting room with a stretch, Sasha, as tall and impeccably dressed as ever, gliding behind the prince with a suitcase under each arm.

Phichit sat next to Yuuri, taking a moment to pour himself a cup of tea as well. “How’s your shoulder?” he asked, cradling his cup in his hands.

Yuuri would’ve shrugged if it wouldn’t have hurt to do so. “Sore, but I’ll live.”

“I might have guessed as much.” Phichit sighed. “Before we head to meet the Emperor, Yuuri, I wanted to say thank you. I didn’t mean to . . . breakdown like that yesterday.”

Yuuri nodded. “I know,” he whispered, switching to Ayattuman for Phichit’s comfort. Emotional talks always felt better when in one’s mother tongue, he’d learned. “But I know it was long overdue.”

Phichit gave him a crooked smile. “I guess I really was holding it in for too long. Sometimes I forget to cry when I’m sad.”

“I know,” Yuuri said again. “As someone who cries easily, it’s definitely a cathartic experience. Even if it’s over something small, it helps you to feel better about the big things, too.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you cry,” Phichit said softly.

Yuuri nodded. “Oh at least once a week. Probably every day when I was a kid.” He shrugged. “I’m still pretty uncomfortable crying in front of others, but still. I just wanted to say that it’s okay to cry. It doesn’t make you weak.”

“Thanks, Yuuri.”

They sat, sipping their tea in silence until a pair of escorts, with Lady Chau already in tow, arrived to bring them to Emperor Viktor’s study.

Viktor’s study was lined with bookshelves, leaving only one side-wall free to hang several framed maps, documents, and a portrait of rather stern looking man that Yuuri had learned was the late Emperor. It felt extremely utilitarian – devoid of anything with personality.

“Thank you for meeting with me this morning,” Viktor said, gesturing for them to take a seat on one of several overstuffed sofas that were arranged around a glass coffee table. “I’d like to start off by apologizing profusely for yesterday’s incident.”

Yuuri, Phichit, and Chau all sat together on the same couch, seemingly to the surprise of the Emperor, who had taken a seat alone on the couch across from them.

“I’ve spent all morning thinking about it,” Phichit said, rubbing at his cheek. “If there were such heavy anti-Ayattuman Empire sentiments here, why were we invited to a peace summit?”

“Probably a splinter group,” Yuuri answered before Viktor could answer. “Captain Popovich mentioned that he was surprised by the arrests of some Rusi nobles who had taken a part of the attack.”

“Ah, well, yes,” Viktor nearly stuttered, caught by surprise. “That would be correct.”

Phichit frowned. “Have you always known that your court was so divided?”

Yuuri almost winced for Viktor’s sake at the cutting accusation.

Viktor, however, didn’t even blink. “Not until recently. There has always been an undercurrent of xenophobic tendencies in the people of Rus, considering the Kingdom itself was created in a war to expel foreigners.” He sighed. “That was centuries ago, but some people take patriotism too far. There has always been tensions between kingdoms on this continent.”

“So, then our arrival likely triggered their ire,” Yuuri said to Phichit, who looked like he wanted to be mad, but couldn’t quite bring himself to be so. “What do you think?”

Phichit sighed. “I can understand how this happened,” he muttered, “but unfortunately I cannot overlook it. If Father found out I did not address this transgression immediately, he might set his sights on the Western continent out of spite.”

Thinking on what he knew of the paranoid monarch, Yuuri thought that was a likely possibility.

“Then you should demand reparations,” Viktor said. “Honestly, there is not much I will not give you. This attack was unprecedented, and to make it worse, you arrived here with the faith that Rus would protect you, thus leaving behind your guards and servants. That _cannot_ be overlooked.”

Viktor and Phichit then spent about half an hour deciding the monetary amount to be paid in reparations, not only to Ayattuma, but to Viama and Kyuu as well.

“I’m glad we could come to an agreement,” Phichit said with a long sigh, signing the document that he and Viktor had drawn up together. “To be fair, excluding yesterday’s incident, I had a wonderful time in Rus. So, I would like to thank you for your hospitality.”

“Thank you for not allowing the misled to color your entire experience here,” Viktor answered, his head bent with the slightest bit of shame.

Phichit stood, extending a hand to Lady Chau. “We should make a final sweep of our rooms and then we’ll be on our way out,” he said, inclining his head to the Emperor as he moved to the door with Chau on his arm. “May we meet again in the future and under happier circumstances.”

Yuuri nodded at Phichit, signaling for his friend to leave. He remained seated on the couch; his hands folded on his lap.

“Lord Yuuri, are you not going too?” Viktor asked.

“Not yet,” he said, trying to remain relaxed. “I wanted to talk to for a moment, if I may?”

Viktor, whose face had been paled with dark bags under his eyes – indicative of his lack of sleep last night, seemed to brighten. “Of course! I would hate if we didn’t get a proper farewell. I have so enjoyed our talks these last few days.”

“I . . . I did, too.” Yuuri smiled hesitantly. “You haven’t brought up my magic yet. Does it bother you? Brother Yuri looked ready to cast me in a fire last night.”

Viktor shrugged. “I can’t say I understand the sentiments of others, but I myself, cannot judge another person for their magic affinity, considering how different my own is.”

Yuuri nearly slumped with relief. He wasn’t sure how the Emperor was going to react, but he had had hope that his assumption of Viktor being a tolerant man wasn’t wrong. “Thank you,” he breathed. “It means a lot to hear you say that.”

“I, however, would like to mention your possession of hidden weapons. For a diplomat, it’s not an action looked upon in a favorable light.”

“Oh. Oh, okay.” He pushed his hands nervously between his knees.

Viktor only shook his head in amusement. “You continue to surprise me, even to this moment. Did you always have knives on you? How many?”

“Every day,” he confirmed, feeling shy. “Generally, between three and five.”

“And right now?”

Yuuri felt his face pale. “Jus – just two. . .”

Viktor chuckled. “If I hadn’t seen you yesterday, I would have a hard time believing you did, let alone that you knew how to use them.”

With hesitant hands, Yuuri drew one of kunai out from his sleeve. He placed it on the table between them. “It is a blade native to my kingdom, called a kunai. You can tie a rope here around the ring of this end, making a weapon that you can both throw and retrieve, if you so choose.” He cleared his throat. “It’s a virgin blade, so I . . . I want you to have it. For good luck.”

“For luck?” the Emperor asked as he picked up the kunai from the table, taking a moment to admire the blade. “Well, I suppose I can never have enough luck, no matter how strange a form it comes in. Thank you, Yuuri.”

Yuuri fiddled with the sleeves of his jacket for a moment before pulling the little box from his pocket; if he was going to be giving gifts now, he might as well give them all at once.

“I have enjoyed our friendship,” he said, trying to recite the speech he’d prepared in his head last night. “I would like to continue to know you, but you might have guessed by now that I am a very cautious person, so writing letters that can be seen by anyone makes me feel ill at ease.”

Viktor nodded, looking downcast. “I can understand if you no longer wish to associate yourself with me. You _were_ stabbed under my protection.”

“No, that’s not what I mean to say at all.” Yuuri stood and moved around the small coffee table, taking a seat next to Viktor so he wouldn’t have to speak quite so loudly. “In Kyuu there are special kinds of communication known as Blood Letters. They are exactly as they sound to be: an enchanted letter that can only be opened with blood. A specific person’s blood.”

Yuuri passed the box to Viktor. “I know to some people find such magic to be abhorrent, but in Kyuu it is a sacred art.”

Viktor opened the box gingerly, taking out a small, glass vial with a sharp, metal point on one end. Inside was a thick, dark liquid that sloshed around lazily.

“That . . . that is my blood,” he said, flushing with panic. _Please don’t find this creepy_ , he pleaded internally. “You can use it to open the letters I send you!”

Emperor Viktor glanced from the vial in his hand to Yuuri’s reddening face. “How does it work?” he asked, looking more curious than repulsed.

Yuuri could have died from relief.

“You simply need to press the point onto the envelope of a letter that I send you. It will extract a small drop, just enough to activate the magic. Anyone that tries to open the letter without using my blood will suffer a day of amnesia, as well as forgetting the existence of the letter entirely.”

Viktor tapped his lip. “Hm. That sounds like complicated mind magic at work.”

“Not quite,” Yuuri said with a shake of his head. “It seems like it affects the mind, but in actuality, it is an affliction on the soul.” He paused, his fingers twisting together. “Would you be okay exchanging letters in this way? I will also send you a stack of enchanted envelopes so you can be afforded the same privacy.”

“Yes, this sounds just fine,” Viktor said with a smile, placing the vial back into its box. “I look forward to learning more about you, Yuuri.”

“And I about you,” he said, smiling brightly.

* * *

Yuuri watched the scenery whisk by from the carriage window. His arm had been tied into a sling by one of the Kyuunan soldiers that had waited for them in the capital, making it that much more difficult to get comfortable in the carriage seats.

“Now that we’re going home,” Phichit said, trying to shove a pillow behind Yuuri’s back in an effort to accommodate him, “I’m sort of going to miss it here. It was nice, at the beginning.”

“I wish I could agree,” Chau demurred, fanning her face as she looked to her lap. “I cannot unsee what happened that night. I fear I might never sleep soundly again.”

Phichit made a sympathetic noise in the back of his throat but chose not to comment.

“It was not what I expected,” Yuuri chipped in after a moment to mull over his thoughts. “But it had its pleasant moments, as well as not so pleasant.” He sighed. “It felt no different than being in Kyuu Castle, once you understood the major cultural differences.”

“Very true. Every court seems to be the same once you get down to it.”

Yuuri nodded along, returning his attention to the rolling Rusi landscape. He felt lonely, somehow, but chose not to dwell on it. He still had a sea voyage to suffer through and familial obligations he would have to begin once he returned home.

He took a moment to say a prayer of parting for the Empire of Rus and everyone he had met here. It was time for him to leave and make his own future.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My goal was to finish this chapter before 2021. So glad I did it!
> 
> Also, is the M rating appropriate for this fic? I'm still trying to find the defining line between M and E ratings. :Ta


	6. Chapter 6

“Sorry if this is too much to ask,” Yuuri apologized with a short, seated bow. “I really feel out of my depth with this . . .”

He was back at the Katsuki estate in his sister’s study. A large bamboo bookshelf stretched the length of the room, filled with books from her tutors, a few translation dictionaries, and more than half of the shelves dedicated to volumes of poetry. The walls, once made of paper, were now renovated with flexible bamboo and pine. A stick of incense was burning in the corner with a calming scent.

Mari shrugged her shoulders.

They sat together at a table filled with swatches of fabric, each a different color with a different pattern.

“You had very little trouble choosing a gift for the Emperor of Rus,” Mari said as she reached for brilliant red swatch with an emerald green pattern. “Why is choosing for this Duchess more difficult?”

Today Mari was wearing a casual white kimono with the image of a crane stalking through rice paddies on the back. She had forgone her favorite pipe as soon as she learned they would be looking at gift ideas, saying she didn’t want to upset anyone with the smell tobacco.

Yuuri sighed, picking up a blue swatch and rubbing it between his fingers. “I don’t know what ladies like her would want,” he started, feeling a bit helpless. “And I only purchased the Emperor a puzzle box.”

“Yes, the most intricate one with the most appealing pattern,” she said with a smirk. “You seemed confident he’d like it.”

“I don’t know for sure,” he grumbled, tossing his swatch down with a sigh of frustration. “It’s something I’d like to get, so I hope he would, too, that’s all.” He took off his glasses and rubbed at his eyes. He thought he might go cross-eyed if he looked at these swatches any longer.

“I just don’t know what to get the Duchess because she asked for ‘something pretty’. And I really want her to like it, since she was the first person in Rus to be friendly with me.”

Mari nodded, then picked up a dark green swatch. “This one,” she said passing the fabric square to Yuuri. “From what you told me about her, this might suit her complexion best out of what we have available.”

Yuuri rubbed the silk, pleased at how smooth it was. “Should we send her a bolt? Since it wouldn’t be the best idea to make a kimono from it. I don’t know her sizes, and I doubt anyone in Rus could tailor it for her if it ends up too big or small.”

“Yes. It’s a very fine quality, and she could have her seamstress make whatever dress she chooses from it.” Mari crossed her arms and fell into a sudden silence, her brows knitting in thought. “I will have the merchant paint half the bolt with the winter motif of pines, bamboo, and plum flowers.”

“Thank you, Mari,” Yuuri sighed out, his shoulders slumping with relief. “I never would have thought of that.”

Mari smiled and discreetly tapped her pinky finger against his knuckle. “Glad to help,” she said, laughing softly. “Besides,” she went on, her voice becoming harder as she glanced towards the doorway. “Anything you send to the Empire of Rus represents Kyuu and our gratefulness, wealth, and generosity. It is also a reflection of Father and myself, now that King Chulanont has returned to Ayattuma.”

Yuuri could sense the presence of, what was likely, a pair of maids huddled around the doorway. They weren’t exactly subtle, but he knew Mari was doing everything in her power to prevent any gossip from circulating. Right now, she needed a pristine reputation, as the entire kingdom’s eyes were on her.

He shifted from sitting on his knees, to a cross-legged position. “Thank you for your advice,” he murmured.

“I trust you to choose the gifts next time. But you did well.” She stood with a sigh. “Now, I could use a cup of tea and a smoke. Care to join me?”

Yuuri nodded, rising after his sister.

He had been in Kyuu for three days now. The first two had been spent sending out letters and lounging in bed, recovering from his miserable seasickness. Yesterday had been a flurry of activity as he learned his new household duties, which was to be Mari’s accessory until he would inherit the Katsuki estate once she was crowned Queen.

A small tea table was set up in the center of the garden, the spring flowers now in full bloom and at their most aromatic, with summer buds beginning to sprout in the sunniest areas.

“I’ll have the gifts sent out by the end of the week,” Mari was saying, her teacup held gingerly in the curve of her hand, with two fingers of her other hand pressed to the front, giving it some stability as she drank.

Yuuri sipped his own tea, not realizing how much he had missed smooth, Kyuunan lacquered teacups; unlike the bone cups in Rus with the ungainly handles that pinched at his fingers.

Mari set her cup down and looked off to the side, examining the first blossoms of an indigo iris. “When are you going to tell me what’s wrong?” she asked, a hand moving to stroke the star pendant around her neck. “Ever since you came home you’ve been . . . distant. More so than usual.”

“I think I’m just overwhelmed,” he lied, staring into his teacup, trying to let the scent of the green tea keep him calm. “A lot of things are changing really fast.”

“That’s true,” Mari said with a slight nod.

A slight breeze brushed by them, making several windchimes and garden ornaments tinkle pleasantly. Yuuri could feel the slight touch of Mari’s magic on the wind and smiled at her attempt to keep him relaxed.

“Just let me know when you’re ready to talk about why you look so sad, okay?”

Yuuri froze, his hands wrapping protectively around his teacup. When he felt brave enough to glance up at Mari, she had already taken out her pipe and was currently stuffing it with tobacco, purposefully ignoring him to give him space.

He stared into his cup as a vibrant blue petal of wisteria glided down on the breeze and landed in his tea. Yuuri watched it float for a minute.

It was true. Something had been nagging at him the entire trip home as well the past few days – more than nausea and the overall uneasiness that accompanied him with travel. Although he hadn’t attributed it to sadness until Mari mentioned it.

There were long hours where he felt listless. Sometimes he caught himself staring out a window or at a piece of art for too long, his mind having drifted away. He thought it was because he wasn’t coping well with the change, but now . . .

“Mari, how do you feel knowing that you’re going to become the Queen?”

Mari looked up at him from her pipe. If she was surprised by his question, she didn’t show it. “Of course I’m worried,” she said after taking a long drag. “I spent most of my childhood learning etiquette and how manage the estate. Very little time was spent learning about politics beyond what the Katsuki household would be responsible for. And now that I’ve had nearly four years of formal ‘princess’ training, knowing that I only have about two more years left is daunting.”

King Chulanont, upon hearing about Yuuri’s “heroic deeds” during the attack in Rus, had decided to reward the Katsuki family by crowning Mari sooner than originally planned, stating that the Katsuki’s had proven how worthy their bloodline was to rule.

Yuuri thought it was excessive, but it was also possible that King Chulanont wanted to be done with Kyuu as quickly as possible to move onto the next target.

“I understand,” he said. “For what it’s worth, I think you’ll do great. You’ll be one of the greatest monarchs of Kyuu.”

Mari sighed. “That’s a pretty low bar to clear, if we’re going to be honest.” She reached for a crisp rice cracker, then pushed the bowl of colorful mochi towards Yuuri, somehow knowing his preferred snack pairing with their green tea. “But I guess it gives me leeway to mess up a little in the beginning.”

They sat together in contemplative silence, simply enjoying one another’s company in the warm weather. Something deep in Yuuri’s mind told him that chances like these would be few and far between in the future, so he made sure to enjoy the moment to its fullest.

“Your Royal Highness, My Lord,” a servant said, approaching their table with a low bow, holding a silver platter pressed up against their knees. “His Royal Highness Crown Prince Phichit has arrived with his attendant.”

“Direct them here, if you would,” Mari granted. “And please, bring cushions for our guests, as well a fresh pot of tea and refreshments – with extra custard buns.”

In a matter of minutes their table had been restocked and Phichit, along with his attendant Guang Hong Ji, had joined them, sitting cross legged at the low table.

“It’s so nice to see this garden again,” Phichit chatted along, immediately passing a bowl of custard buns to Guang Hong after their tea had been poured. “You really should try these – the chef here at the Katsuki estate has to be the best in all of Kyuu when it comes to sweets!”

Guang Hong Ji, the same attendant Yuuri had met all those years ago in front of Kyuu Castle’s ruined gates, sat, looking uncomfortable at the familiarity of the people that surrounded him. He obviously seemed to believe he didn’t belong amongst them.

“Ah, thank you, your highness,” he murmured, accepting Phichit’s hospitality with a nervous expression.

During his time serving Phichit, Yuuri had only seen Guang Hong on a few occasions, as he apparently spent most of his time in the library, abroad in Ayattuma, or dining with nobles as Phichit’s proxy. He would meet with Phichit to discuss the current state of affairs each week, but Yuuri hardly needed to be present for such conferences.

“No need for formalities here,” Phichit chided him with a good-natured smile. “At this table, we’re all friends.”

Mari snorted, amused.

“And since I’m leaving tomorrow, I want this to be a good time. It’ll be a while before I can come back.”

Yuuri frowned, despite the reassuring clap on the back that Phichit slapped him with – although he was careful to avoid Yuuri’s mending shoulder. Things really were going to be different now. Phichit had been a constant positive presence in this life, and now . . . well, now he wasn’t sure if he was ready to be alone again.

“I know we’re early for dinner,” Phichit went on, “But I wanted to talk to you, Mari.”

“Oh?” Mari asked, setting down her teacup to give Phichit her full attention. “That’s rather rare.”

Phichit shrugged. “Normally it’s not needed. You’re a good listener, Mari, even when you’re pretending not to,” he said, laughing. “You’re so good at discerning what’s actually being said at noble functions, that I usually just say whatever and you always get the message, but!” He paused dramatically. “This time I have . . . hm, I guess it a word for it would be a gift.”

Guang Hong’s brows furrowed, but he said nothing.

“Really? Well then, consider me curious.”

Phichit made a grand gesture towards his attendant. “I want to officially introduce you to Guang Hong Ji, a native of Chizia. He has been my attendant for five years now. However, he and my father have come to an agreement. Guang Hong will remain here in Kyuu as an advisor to Crown Princess Mari and remain so once she is to be crowned as Queen.”

He smiled, resting his chin on his fist. “I can personally vouch for Guang Hong’s abilities. And since he’s well versed on the political spheres of both Ayattuma and Kyuu, I believe he will be invaluable to you.”

Yuuri glanced over at the brunette man. He remembered how small Guang Hong had appeared to him at their first meeting, and even now as he approached nineteen years old, he was still a short, slender man with a rather mild disposition.

Yuuri envied that kind of quiet confidence.

“I’m pleased to formally meet you, Crown Princess Mari. I hope that I can be of use to you in the days to come.”

Mari stared, alternating between Phichit and Guang Hong.

“Thank you, Guang Hong,” she said, somewhat stiff. “Although I don’t appreciate making people into a gift,” she tapped her pipe, which had been resting on a custom stand next to teacup, in annoyance.

Phichit, unperturbed, smiled once again. “Sorry Mari, I couldn’t think of a better Kyuunan word.”

“I know _you_ did not mean it,” she said, then turned to Guang Hong. “I wanted to make sure that _he_ understood that.”

Guang Hong gave a timid smile. “I appreciate it,” he said softly. “I’ll do my best to help you, Your Highness.”

“I’ll be counting on you, Guang Hong.”

Later that day, dinner was lively since Phichit and Guang Hong had joined him, Mari, and their parents for a farewell feast. Plenty of sake had been passed around, and spirits were high well into the night.

But somehow Yuuri couldn’t shake the feeling of loneliness.

The air was muggy at the docks, ocean spray misting his glasses as he stood next to his mother. They were at the gangplank for a large Ayattuman merchant ship that Yuuri did not know the name to, waiting with Phichit as his belongings were steadily hauled aboard.

“Four days between such long marine voyages doesn’t seem like a long enough rest,” Hiroko was saying, her voice tearful. “Dear, Prince Phichit, you know you are welcome to stay at our estate for as long as you need. Don’t feel that you must force yourself to travel so soon.”

“Ah, lovely Duchess Katsuki, Mother of the Earth and Everything Beautiful,” Phichit cooed. He grasped Hiroko’s hands and squeezed them tenderly.

Yuuri closed his eyes to prevent an eyeroll.

“I cannot express how much I’m going to miss you and your family,” he went on, his jovial tune slowly becoming thick with emotion. “You have taught me so, so much, when I thought I didn’t have anything more to learn.”

“And we loved hosting you, my dear.” A small tear made its way down Hiroko’s aged cheek, and she turned away to hide her face behind one of her kimono sleeves. “Do not forget to write. Make sure to visit us at least once a year – during sakura season if you can.”

Both Phichit and Yuuri held one of Hiroko’s shoulders, giving her a half hug, despite how scandalous such an emotional affair might appear to the crowds further behind them.

“I will write as soon as my feet touch land! And I’ll convince father to schedule me as many visits to Kyuu as he sees fit, for both vacation and state visits.” Phichit was blinking rapidly now, attempting to keep his eyes dry. “I’ll also make sure to send you the loveliest gifts from the capital for your birthday, so please anticipate it!”

Hiroko gave a breathy laugh, as if she couldn’t believe Phichit’s antics, although she knew him quite well. “Alright you rascal,” she said fondly. “I’ll give you two a moment together. Yuuri, dear, I’ll be in the carriage when you’re finished.”

Yuuri watched his mother walk down the dock, refusing to take his eyes from her until she was safely inside their waiting carriage.

He turned to Phichit, his throat tight, and no words in his head.

“I’m sad to leave you, Yuuri,” Phichit said. His eyes were wet now. “It’s only been a few years, but you’ve become someone irreplaceable to me. Like a brother I never had.”

“Same to you,” Yuuri managed to choke out, a tear clasping desperately onto his eyelash. “I want to say it’s not fair. But we knew this was going to happen. I still don’t like it though.”

Yuuri drew in a deep, shuddering breath, trying with all his might to follow noble decorum. “I am . . . _so_ sad that this is the end of our oath, but it’s not the end of our friendship. Maybe some time I’ll portal over to you, just to see how you’re doing. If . . . if you’d receive me.”

Phichit chuckled. “I’m not sure if I could randomly take such a huge magical drain like that, but for you Yuuri, yes. You’re welcome to use my shadow anytime – ever. Even if you just want to scold me for something you imagined up.”

Yuuri wanted to laugh, but only sound that left his throat was a breathy wheeze.

“Thank you, Phichit. Make sure you tell me if there’s ever anything I can do for you – I’ll be there. I promise. It’s . . . it’s what friends are for; just like you taught me.”

Phichit’s lower lip trembled. He stuck his hand out to Yuuri, just as he had at their first meeting. “It’s been a pleasure to get to know you, Katsuki Yuuri.”

Yuuri, unable to contain his tears any longer, threw himself into a deep bow. “And you as well, Phichit Chulanont. May the wind always be at your back and the sun above your head.”

He stood up, his tears falling faster upon noticing that was Phichit openly crying as well.

Phichit reached forward and took his hand, shaking it vigorously before dragging Yuuri in close for a hug.

Throwing all etiquette out the window, Yuuri clasped the back of Phichit’s jacket, his nose pressing into the crook of his friend’s neck. Phichit: his best friend, his rescuer, his rock in the tumultuous unknown; was leaving. And he had to let him go.

Yuuri never wanted to forget the warmth of Phichit’s arms, or the feeling of hot tears on the side of his neck. If he could, he would find a way immortalize the bittersweet feeling of that hug.

They spent a few moments sniffling into each other’s shoulders, before Yuuri finally pulled away with a pat on Phichit’s back.

Laughing, they wiped at their wet faces, ignoring the stares around them.

“I’ll see you again, Yuuri.”

After their final goodbyes, Yuuri turned away from Phichit, his eyes focused on his carriage, afraid that if turned around now, he’d never be able to let Phichit get on that boat.

He climbed into the carriage with his mother, who seemed to have just finished having a private cry.

“I know things seem hard right now, sweet Yuuri,” she said, placing her hand onto his. “But it will be okay.”

“Yeah,” he mumbled, wiping at his eyes one last time. “I’ll be alright.”

When they arrived in Hasetsu, his mother looked at him with a worried expression. “Are you sure you want to be running errands today? Maybe you should wait until tomorrow . . .”

Yuuri shook his head, trying his best to give Hiroko a reassuring smile. “It’s best I go now, so I have something else to focus on.”

“If you’re sure. . .”

He nodded.

Eventually she allowed herself to be escorted back inside their manor.

Yuuri thanked the coachman before walking off towards the nearby mountain trail, just outside of the estate’s boundaries. He plopped underneath a sakura tree, the blossoms having already fallen, giving way to small, inedible cherries.

He took a moment to simply take in his surroundings, grounding himself. The sound of the wind rustling through the leaves, the smell of grass and earth, the rough bark of the tree trunk against his back, the gentle swaying of the shadows; he let all the sensations fill his mind.

The small, lonely feeling that had supplemented his days suddenly felt much, much larger.

“Time to go,” he told himself, taking a deep, cleansing breath.

Gathering his magic, Yuuri dropped himself into the shade of the tree and began a shadow step journey to the Kyuu Guild of Necromancy, feeling the need to exercise his magic control.

By the time he arrived, he was sweating from exertion, but he could already feel his pool of magic begin to slowly refill with the descent of the sun.

He grasped the doorknocker and tapped it onto the old door, examining a spot of mildew that was beginning to form in the top corner as he waited.

The door creaked open, revealing a slightly surprised Guildmaster. “Young Yuuri . . . what brings you here?”

Yuuri stepped inside, looking around at the stone walls and flickering green fires that led down into the twisting hallways. He felt nostalgic, but decided he only felt that way because he was vulnerable at the moment.

Just because he spent his childhood here, doesn’t mean that he missed it.

Right?

Right.

“I’m here to see Minami, if he’s not busy,” he said, moving towards the hallway that he knew led towards the dorm rooms. He already knew Minami wasn’t busy, as his friend had sent him a letter last night telling him to stop by to pick up his parcel.

The Guildmaster inclined his head. “Minami is in the . . . gardens,” he rasped out, but held up a hand to stop Yuuri when he turned to leave. “After your . . . meeting, I have something for you. You might find it . . . illuminating.”

Yuuri sent the Guildmaster a skeptical glance but nodded. He knew that the man wouldn’t bother to call him out separately unless it was something important or of great interest.

“I shall be in my office when you are . . . finished, then.”

Yuuri stepped out the back door to the guild’s poison garden, making sure to keep his kimono wrapped closely around his legs. What he wouldn’t give to be allowed to wear simple pants again, but he supposed it wasn’t really his choice anymore.

Minami was in a shaded corner of the garden, tending to an area that grew poison fire coral mushrooms. He was tossing dead leaves on the loamy soil and checking the rocks in a small trench around the mushrooms to prevent them from spreading too far. If they were harvested before they could spore, it’d be relatively fine – just like any number of the plants within the garden.

“Good afternoon, Minami,” Yuuri called out gently, making sure his footsteps were loud as to not startle his friend. This was not a good place to flinch and accidentally touch something you shouldn’t.

“Nice to see you, Yuuri,” Minami answered with a grin. He reached up as if he were about to wipe his forehead, caught sight of his dirtied gardening gloves, and thought better of it. “I didn’t think you’d come until it was a bit darker outside, honestly.”

Yuuri shrugged. “I’ve been pushing my limits lately,” he said. “Trying to see how far I can make a shadow jump without getting ejected from the between world.”

“You never stop, do you?” Minami asked, a teasing smile on his face. “Now that you’re nobility, most people thought you’d let your skills go to waste, but here you are, still training, even when you don’t need to.”

“The strength of my skills may save my life, or the lives of others,” he muttered, his mind stuck in the ballroom back in Rus. He closed his eyes to try and shut out the memories. “I’ve learned that noble circles can be just as dangerous as a battlefield.”

Minami nodded, pulling off his gloves and tossing them into a small safe-keeping box by the garden’s toolshed. “I have your package in my room,” he said, changing the subject with an uneasy laugh.

Something in Yuuri’s expression must have made him uncomfortable, although he wasn’t sure what. Was he glowering?

“Let me just wash my hands and we’ll head there. Oh! We can stop by the kitchen for a snack since you expended so much energy in getting here.” 

Yuuri followed along behind Minami, minding his steps as they went.

The cooks were in a titter to see Yuuri again, kindly smoothing his kimono and tapping at his cheeks with their rice-flour covered fingers. They had always been sweet to him, but he couldn’t remember if they had always been so welcoming.

After having their arms filled with bowls of steamed buns, rice balls, and a ceramic vase of rice wine, they made their way to Minami’s room. They pushed aside some books on his workbench to have somewhere to set their feast.

Minami pulled two mugs out of a chest at the foot of his bed. He sat on his bed while Yuuri took a stool.

“Sorry I don’t have something better for you to sit on,” Minami said with a sigh, effortlessly catching a bun that Yuuri tossed his way.

“I didn’t expect you to.” Yuuri took a rice ball for himself and bit down, relishing the sweet plum flavor that washed over his tongue. This food was considered too simple to be served at the estate and the castle. He hadn’t realized that he’d missed it until now. “I don’t mind.”

Minami frowned, looking down at his hands. “Sorry. It’s hard for me to not think about how you’re nobility – I mean I’ve known about your parentage since we were kids, but now that you’ve had your title restored and are living at your estate, sometimes I think you’ll just . . . start to expect better things.” He shrugged. “It’s kind of hard to explain.”

Yuuri took a moment to finish his rice ball as he contemplated Minami’s words. “I want to say I won’t change,” he started, staring at the palms of his hands. “But I have no idea how this will continue to affect me, especially once I have to take on the title of Prince.”

“Yeah . . .”

Then Yuuri smiled. “Although I can say for sure that I’ll never treat you any differently, Minami. You’ve helped me a lot throughout our childhood, and still do. I appreciate it so much.” He picked up another rice ball and took a big bite. “And I will repay you. Hopefully, these titles will have _some_ use.”

“You’re planning on using your position to help me out?” Minami asked, his eyes nearly sparkling with hope.

Yuuri nodded. “I’m going to try – or well I _have_ tried, but it’s more difficult than I’d assumed. I must have a legitimate reason to call for your services, as well as a position readily available, in which there is no one else more qualified. It’s baffling, sometimes.”

“Oh . . . so no ordering people about and getting whatever you want, huh?”

“Maybe when I have the title of Prince,” he said with a shrug. “Or I beg Mari after she’s crowned, but I can’t guarantee how well she’d take that.”

Minami deflated, but rose a moment later, his shoulders back and chest out. “I know you’ll figure something out, Yuuri,” he said, moving to pour wine into their cups. “You’ve always been the most clever out of everyone in the guild. I’m sure it’s just a matter of time.”

“Thank you for your confidence.”

They ate and drank in a comfortable silence, falling back into their old routines.

It helped lessen the lonely feeling in his chest, but it was still painfully noticeable. He briefly wondered if it would ever leave.

“Here are the enchanted envelopes,” Minami said once they had finished eating. He picked up a parcel wrapped in blue fabric and tied shut with jute strings. “This should last you a year – assuming you both only write two letters a month. Let me know if you happen to need more before then.”

“Thank you, Minami,” he said, accepting the parcel gingerly. “I know this was a lot of work. I, um, is there anything I can get for you as a token of appreciation?”

Minami pushed his fist under his chin, his protruding thumb rubbing at his chin as he thought. “Hm. I could use new sandals? Mine are starting to wear, and I know the guild would get me new ones, but they always requisition the ones made with uncomfortably hard wood.”

Yuuri chuckled. He knew that problem all too well. “I can manage that,” he said with a smile.

Excusing himself, Yuuri left Minami to rest and continue with his assigned chores. He meandered through the hallways leading to the Guildmaster’s office, letting his fingers trace along the coarse stone walls as he went.

He felt strange, being here again. It was a familiar place, more so than Hasetsu or Kyuu Castle could ever be. As much as he hated this place for what had happened to him, part of him felt a pull of belonging. It was as if this was _his_ place – that being a Lord, or a Prince, was just a façade. The shimmer of spirit fire, the echo of footsteps on stone, the misty darkness that permeated the building – it was real; it was _him_.

In the end, he couldn’t blame this place for what Hisa had done to him.

The Guildmaster’s office was tucked into a dark corner near the entrance, easily overlooked by those who were unfamiliar with the building.

Yuuri placed his hand on the closed door, sensing a cantrip made of spirit magic, and knocked, rather than pushing it open.

“Come in,” the Guildmaster croaked out, the magic vanishing as he did so.

“You asked for me,” Yuuri announced himself, reluctant. He stepped inside and quietly closed the door.

The Guildmaster sat at a large wooden desk, blackened with age and frequent use. Bookcases lined the walls, their shelves imperceptibly close to snapping from the weight of the tomes shoved upon them. In the far corner was a ledger, locked under a spell, and he knew that somewhere there was a safe hidden behind the stones of a wall.

“Thank you . . . for coming,” the Guildmaster began, pulling a thick book out from a drawer in his desk. It was old, the leather binding the yellowing pages cracked with neglect and time. “This was found recently in . . . an investigation of the late Queen’s private study.”

Yuuri clasped his hands behind his back, a wary feeling building in his chest as he stared at the tome.

“It was given to me after . . . some of the contents seemed to pertain to necromancy.” The Guildmaster sighed, pushing the book towards Yuuri. “This information is . . . dangerous, young Yuuri. But it is for you to . . . decide what must be done, as you are the most powerful shadowmancer that we know of.”

Yuuri took half a step closer, despite the foreboding sensation that made him want to run in the other direction. “Is this a shadowmancy tome?” he asked before daring to reach out towards it.

“Some,” the Guildmaster said, giving the book a rather disdainful stare. “It is more of a . . . book of secrets. Pertaining to the Sato family’s . . . ancestors. It also involves you.” He pushed the tome into Yuuri’s hesitant hands. “You will understand when you read it.”

“What should I do with this information?” Yuuri asked, wrapping the book in his silk handkerchief.

The Guildmaster looked thoughtful for a moment, but then shrugged. “You may do as you please. I . . . or rather . . . _you_ are the Master of Shadows. Only you can decide.”

The man’s spiritually charged green eyes stared at him for an uncomfortable minute, his calligraphy brush tapping against the wood of this desktop. “If I am to offer . . . advice. . . Learn it. One cannot know the truth . . . if they fear the idea.”

Yuuri fought the sudden urge to toss the book out the window. Was this a test? Why was the Guildmaster being so cryptic? What could possibly be written in here that was deemed to be for a Master only?

The silence in the room became deafening, as it appeared that neither of them had anything further to say.

Yuuri cleared his throat. “I’ll take my leave, then.”

The Guildmaster simply nodded without looking up from the pile of papers on his desk.

Tucking the tome under his arm alongside Minami’s parcel, Yuuri gathered the last dregs of the clammy shadow magic that hung around the guildhall before he slipped back into the Between world.

It was always more tiring bringing objects with him when shadow stepping, so by the time he reached the front gates of the Katsuki Estate his legs were quivering, and his forehead was beaded with sweat from his exertion. As much as he wanted to collapse right there on the ground, he knew he had to remain presentable until he could finally reach his quarters.

Squaring his shoulders, Yuuri strolled through the hedge garden leading to the estate’s front doors. He nodded at the doorman as the aging man greeted him and handed him a glass of water, as was custom.

Yuuri drank the water gratefully. “Thank you,” he said as he handed back the lacquered cup.

He hurried up to his room, only allowing his posture to slump when his door finally latched behind him. Setting the strange tome and the parcel of envelopes on his writing desk, Yuuri crawled into his futon and closed his eyes, even though the sunset still colored the sky a bright orange. He was too tired to finish the tasks he knew he still had to accomplish for the day.

When he woke, it was a dark and moonless night. He could feel a steady stream of energy pour into him, and he sighed with relief. Since he was up, he felt he might as well do something productive before returning to bed.

Stretching, he moved over to his writing desk. He took stock of his newly acquired possessions. The tome still bothered him, but he moved it to a small shelf in the corner of his room to look over in the morning. Maybe it would have less power if it were in the sunlight.

Yuuri lit a couple candles, setting them carefully on the flattened corners of his tilted desk. He had to fumble around for a blank piece of washi paper from the haphazard pile he had set aside the day before, but once he’d had his brush out and ready, he stopped.

Now that he was preparing to write to Viktor, he realized he had never actually composed anything in Ruish, as he never had the need to do so – even the letter accompanying the gifts to Rus had been written by Guang Hong.

It was one thing to read Ruish, as he simply needed to mentally translate it into Kyuunan to comprehend it; and he could get by with speaking it since he could rely on body language to clearly convey his intentions. But writing it. . . He was feeling rather intimidated.

Yuuri sighed. He had to be making this more difficult that it truly was. Maybe he should write it in Kyuunan and then translate it into Ruish. It wouldn’t be perfect, but it would probably be better than having a disjointed letter because he was thinking too hard about grammar rather than content.

_Dear Viktor_ , he began, hoping it did not seem too formal.

_I am now four days in Kyuu and have recovered well from my sea illness. I am sad to say that boat travel does not suit me._

_How do things fare in Rus? I have heard stories of the beauty in Rus during the summer – such that there are flowers taller than a man that constantly reach for the sun. Maybe someday I can see such a thing._

_Everything here is the same as it has ever been – as it likely ever will be. The only difference being my new diplomatic courses that I must take with Princess Mari. She takes them very seriously, but I am not of the same mind. I feel they are simply more etiquette classes but pertain to foreign cultures as to not make faux pas. The lectures on politics are far more interesting, but Mari dislikes attempting to prepare for every outcome for a situation, as it is not a very efficient use of her time._

_In a way I believe she is right. Her focus is solely on the wellbeing of Kyuu and its population as we enter uncertain times. I do not envy her in this._

_To be honest with you, I am composing this letter first in Kyuunan and will translate it second to Ruish. I have just had the idea to send you the Kyuunan version as well, if there is a small chance you might want to see it or attempt to learn something of my mother tongue. I do not think that Kyuunan to Ruish dictionaries exist yet, but there are some Kyuunan to Ayattuman dictionaries, as well as those of Ayattuman to Ruish that Prince Phichit and I used back in our language studies. It’s a rather roundabout solution, but I might have to pen such a dictionary myself._

_Although the idea of you wishing to learn more of Kyuunan might be hopeful on my part and I apologize if I have made any overreaching assumptions._

_Please feel free to ask me any question you might have in your return letter. I will answer it._

_Sincerely,_

_Lord Katsuki Yuuri of Kyuu_

With a satisfied sigh, Yuuri set the letter aside to dry. It wasn’t a long letter by any means, but it was a decent start to a long-term correspondence. He would translate it in the morning. For now, he should go back to sleep since it seemed that tomorrow would likely be a trying day.

He took a moment to change into his sleep robes and blow out the candles before crawling back onto his futon with a tired sigh.

When the footman came to wake him in the morning, Yuuri felt refreshed. Nights of the new moon always left him feeling energized. He dressed simply and went through his morning routines of breakfast with his family, financial management classes, tutoring with Mari, and then a light lunch.

Once back in his room, he returned to his desk and took the time to carefully translate his letter to the best of his ability. Setting it aside to dry, he then brought out the tome from the Guildmaster. His hand roamed over the cracked leather on the cover, unable to find a title or even the impression of one that had faded with time. The sense of foreboding had not lessened in the sunlight, however.

He decided to move to his futon, taking his cushion with him. He bundled up his cushions, pillows, and blankets to make a small nest to relax back into, belatedly lamenting the feather-stuffed lounger that was still back in his old quarters of Kyuu Castle.

There was always the option of going to the study or library to read, but he felt that this book was not something that should be read in public. There was also the fear that someone else might find it – and if whatever in here was important enough to be brought to the Guildmaster’s attention, then it likely shouldn’t be in the hands of the populace at large.

Yuuri took a deep breath and opened the book to the first page. Nothing he saw was immediately recognizable. He squinted at the yellowed pages for a moment, until he realized he was looking at a mix of ancient Kyuunan and an old version of the Ruish alphabet, but he couldn’t readily understand the words. Had there been Kyuunan influences in the western continent before their great isolation period?

It was impossible to know for sure unless he went digging into thousand-year-old travelogues. Which likely had been destroyed by time, as the Sato rulers had not prioritized knowledge or outside influences. Maybe he would ask Viktor if such a thing existed in Rus.

For now, he supposed he should just read what he could understand and look up the old Ruish later.

_Preface: I, Tachibana Yasunori, the greatest of Master Rodion’s disciples, am writing this to those that descend from my blood. Our Master is the greatest and most powerful necromancer to have ever lived and that will ever live. He was a Master of Death, Spirit, and Vampiric magic – the Earth trembled before him and his undead armies. He was to gain immortality – was one step away from completing the ritual._

_But he was betrayed by the one he trusted the most and the one that I have always despised. The Shadowmancer Master: Eguchi Kisho._

_It is now our sworn duty to resurrect Master Rodion from his soul’s prison in the Underworld and grant him the use of his Destined Vessel._

Perturbed by the information in front of him, Yuuri had to skip a large portion of the book that had been written in the old Ruish, but noted in ancient Kyuunan as, “Copies of the master’s Destined Vessel Spellwork”.

When he found a section in the book he could once again read, Yuuri frowned. The words looked to be scribbled in an angry haste, making some of them difficult to discern and forcing Yuuri to try and guess through the context of the rest of the passages.

_Of course, the way to break a shadowmancer spell would be through another shadowmancer spell! There is only one way to stop the constant recycling of the Pure Soul and give it to Underworld where Master Rodion awaits._

_No matter how I detest those lurking rats, I need one stupid enough to do this for me. Their code of ethics is far too rigid, and those that are strong enough to perform such a powerful spell are few and far between. I will have to find a likely child and train it myself. I can form it to my liking – a perfect shadow minion._

_This is my only hope. Master Rodion is waiting for my or my ancestor’s success._

On the next page Yuuri found a rather roundabout and hypothetical working of a shadowmancer spell. He recognized the words of power from his own studies and slowly began to put it together to try and discern what, exactly the spell’s purpose was.

“Oh Gods,” he whispered to himself, his hands trembling, as he read over the incantations and processes for perhaps the sixth time.

How could something like this be possible? He thumbed the corner of the page, trying to commit everything written on it to memory. What was the purpose of this spell’s creation?

A spell to send a person’s soul straight to the Underworld by invading their shadow.

Yuuri spent the next couple of days staring at Hisa’s old tome whenever he had a break in his duties. He had so many questions, yet the book held no answers that he could decipher.

Who was this Master Rodion? What, exactly, did he do to be imprisoned in the Underworld? Was such a thing even possible? And why was a soul-stealing spell created for this man?

Why did Hisa have this journal? Did it mean she was a descendant of this disgusting man who spoke of grooming shadowmancer children? Is this where she got the idea to abduct him?

It was confounding and frustratingly so.

He was slowly coming to the realization that if he wanted to know more about what was in the book, he was going to have to return to Rus – or even enlist the help of Viktor. Although he doubted that would be a feasible endeavor. And even if it were, he had already sent his letter (stuffed with a return envelope) off to Rus with the gifts, so he would have to wait for a reply first.

Perhaps Hisa had some more material in her private library that could translate the rest of the book for him? Or did she know through oral stories within her family? It was possible. But he decided it would be worth trying to find answers within Kyuu before reaching out with such dangerous information.

There were still people in Kyuu Castle that he kept in contact with, like Yuuko and her husband, so he sat down at his writing desk once more to discreetly ask for their help combing through the information on what was found in that book collection.

His eyes continued to wander to the old, wrinkled tome. That spell . . . was it even possible to perform? In _theory_ , from what he understood about his magic, it _should_ be. A person’s shadow harbored a part of their soul, so it would always be difficult to intrude into a shadow without permission. But to assume he could grasp that fragment and . . . _pull_ the entire thing out to banish to the Underworld?

How much power would that cost? Was it even worth knowing?

He looked down at his hands, tracing the tiny, near invisible scars along his fingers and knuckles that came with his years of practicing knifework.

Was this spell something inherently foul? Could shadowmancy be evil? He’d never seen it as such, despite the common perception, but could parts of it be?

“Impossible,” he muttered to himself, angry that he would even contemplate something like that.

Necromancy, and in connection, shadowmancy, were all a natural part of the world. Death and darkness were an immutable truth of their existence. So, it should be a question of whether one who wields the power is evil or not.

Would learning this spell . . . destroy him? Could it be the beginning of his descent?

He didn’t believe so, but something – a faint whisper in his ear, a pull on his heart, the hitch of his breath – all told him he should learn it. He was the Shadow Master of the region. Thinking on the Guildmaster’s advice, it was his responsibility to understand as much shadowmancy as he could – to know if certain knowledge was best left unlearned.

With a sigh he opened the book once more and began to study the spell in detail. He had made up his mind.

Over the course of a few months, Yuuri became accustomed to his new routines of dining, taking classes, sitting in at court functions, and training his body and magic.

Most days he went to bed exhausted, too tired to even take off his simple exercise garb before crawling into his futon to fall into a near immediate sleep. He might have been overdoing it, but somehow the constant motion and single-mindedness of it helped numb the void of loneliness he had felt previously.

He had spent the late evenings practicing the shadowmancer spell; invading the shadows of unsuspecting animals and grasping at their soul’s fragments, but he could never find the courage to try and cast them into the Underworld, feeling it was for an unjust reason. But he continued to refine the beginning of the technique, until it was as ingrained into his memory as his knifework, knowing there might be a day there might be a time he must use it. Although he hoped there never would be.

One of the few highlights of his days, however, were the response letters that Emperor Viktor would send to him. Each one felt precious to him and he couldn’t help but to smile with excitement every time a servant came to hand him a piece of correspondence on a polished tray.

Today he sat at his writing desk, a Blood Letter in hand. It was towards the end of summer now, the cicadas buzzing in the humid evening. Viktor had faithfully sent him a response to each of his letters with little delay.

What had struck Yuuri as odd, however, was how the man had not immediately begun to interrogate Yuuri about his magic, background, or combat abilities. Instead, he kept their conversations casual and wistful; from describing current events in Rus, sending detailed drawings of the flower Yuuri had asked about (what he learned were named Sunflowers), and asking about Kyuunan customs and lore.

Picking up his silver letter opener – a gift from Phichit years ago, he pricked the tip of his forefinger. He waited for a droplet of blood to well up before he smeared it along the envelope’s seal. There was a slight shimmer as the enchantment was broken, then he used the letter opener to carefully cut the top of the envelope.

Yuuri gently pulled the letter from within and spread it onto his desktop before beginning to read in earnest.

_Dearest friend Yuuri,_

_Your last letter about the theater that you had experienced in Kyuu was most entertaining. The idea of tragic thematic music with such compelling storylines. I am amazed. We have plenty of drama and opera here in Rus, but to have only two instruments and sometimes no speech! I wish to see one!_

_The sunflowers are now at their tallest height. Every time I see one, I think of you and your wish to see them. I wish I could send one to you, but I fear it would not leave the same grand impression upon you as one at full, healthy maturity._

_I wanted to keep you updated on the Church, since they still seem to be unhappy to learn about the presence of necromancy in the Eastern continent. As a country, there is nothing we can do about it, but I find it rather annoying how they continue to persist about its natural abhorrence._

_They want me to make a law forbidding the entrance of known necromancers, including you, Lord Yuuri; which is not something I can do, both for political reasons and personal selfishness. So, you do not need to fear such an event coming to pass._

_On a serious note, Yuuri, I wish to ask you something very personal. I know you promised to answer any question I might have, but a part of me doesn’t want to know – to make you sad or for you to resent me for bringing up such topics. But I’m afraid I am simply too curious and will now ask._

_Yuuri. My dear friend. Tell me how you became a shadowmancer? And from what Brother Yuri tells me, a rather powerful one at that. Please, start at the beginning. I want to understand everything._

_And my dearest friend, no matter what your answer may be, I will accept you with open arms._

_With Everlasting Patience,_

_Emperor Viktor Nikiforov III of the Rus Empire_

_P.S. Mila wanted me to remind you that her birthday is coming up and to add it to my letter since it is already prepped to send._

Yuuri put the letter down with a sigh. He knew this day would come, but he wasn’t sure if he was prepared. Either way, he knew his time was up.

He reached for a sheet of blank washi paper and set it next to Viktor’s letter. Opening his calligraphy case, he began to place everything in its proper spot while he pondered how, exactly, he was going to respond.

Honesty, he decided, was probably the best policy in this scenario.

First, he took a moment to politely address the beginning of Viktor’s letter, then he dipped his brush into the inkwell, letting it linger as he gathered his thoughts. Finally, he touched the brush to his paper and began to write.

He tried his best to recount his history in an impartial manner. Starting with his conscription to the Guild. He wanted to write down every detail – the nights spent in pain and exhaustion from rigorous training that was too hard on the body of a child; the healing magic experiments; Hisa’s punishments, the threats, the fear. But instead, he did his best to gloss over it.

With reluctance he wrote about the Kyuunan – Ayattuman war and the part he was forced to play as the Queen’s personal assassin. Of Hisa’s downfall and his contract with Phichit and the King Chulanont. Eventually ending his tale with a briefing of his trip to Rus.

Not knowing how to end the, admittedly long, letter, Yuuri simply signed it with, “I’m sorry,” and set it aside to dry.

Yuuri sighed and stood up, stretching his arms overhead. He felt stiff, but he knew he would limber up during his training session.

After a satisfying pop of his neck, Yuuri made his way to the sparring grounds towards the back of the estate’s grounds. This was where the household guards would come for their workouts and monthly physical training tests.

The sun had already dipped below the mountainside, the sky a deep orange, slowly bruising into pinks and purples as the summer night proceeded on.

The moment he stepped into the center of the arena, he felt something was wrong. He whirled around, instinctively doing a sweep of the nearby shadows. If his paranoia hadn’t made him hypervigilant, he might have never noticed the painstakingly concealed man in the deepest shadow of an equipment pit. Only the slight wrinkle of clothing protruding from the darkness to reveal the slightest disparity from the original shadow.

Yuuri dropped into a fighting stance, grateful to be wearing his simple kimono jacket and training pants. He easily flicked a kunai out of his sleeve and held it in a familiar reverse grip.

“Who’s there?” he barked out, his heart beginning to race.

Silence hung in the air.

Yuuri felt a foreign aura attempt to brush against his, then quickly recede, but it had been close enough for him to feel the identifier of a mind mage. He made sure to drape a dark blanket of his magic around his mind, just as he was taught when Phichit had come to visit the Guild.

“It looks like you won’t make this easy,” a hissing voice said in Ayattuman from the shadow. There still was no movement, but Yuuri felt the person’s aura once again, seeking invasion.

A wave of anxiety rolled down his spine. “Why are you here?” he tried asking, rocking from foot to foot as to keep his stance loose and ready.

“That’s simple,” the voice said, and now Yuuri wasn’t sure if he was hearing it in or outside of his own head. The stranger’s aura now washing over him like a nauseous wave. “Your head is wanted.”

Yuuri doubled down on his mental defenses. “King Chulanont nulled that bounty. Anyone attempting to collect it is committing treason.”

No answer.

A flicker of shadow movement caught Yuuri’s eye and he flung his kunai at it. It struck something with a soft thud and the voice cursed hotly.

“You really are a bastard . . . ah – fuck.”

Yuuri drew another kunai out from the waist of his pants.

Slowly a man limped out of the shadows, a kunai sticking out from his right thigh. Despite his injury he moved with a confident swagger. He slung his arm around a nearby training dummy and smiled maliciously.

“There might not be a bounty on your head any longer,” he said.

The pressure on Yuuri’s head almost seemed to double and he clutched his kunai even tighter to resist. It was beginning to feel like he was trying to move through water.

“But let me assure you, there are still plenty of people seeking revenge. Before you die tonight be assured, I do this for the honor of my brother that you so heartlessly slaughtered.”

Yuuri scowled. It seemed those days would forever haunt him. He was remorseful for his part in the war, but it wasn’t as if he could put out a public apology for his crimes and not be persecuted even more heavily.

He would have to end this quickly.

Yuuri threw another kunai, almost flinching at how slow he felt.

The man quickly ducked behind the dummy, narrowly missing a strike to his face. “You have quite the aim. But you should give up now. The Royal family you so disgustingly cuddled up to for protection can’t help you now.”

Shakily, Yuuri slid another kunai out from his other sleeve.

“Especially Prince Phichit. It’s no secret how he took a shine to you. That was his biggest mistake. I made sure to take care of him – no one with such bad judgement could be fit to rule our beautiful Empire.”

“Liar,” Yuuri bit out, his voice trembling. Phichit was fine. He would’ve heard something otherwise. Unless it was recent. “No one in Ayattuma would dare touch Prince Phichit.”

The man barked out a laugh. “I’m going to die anyway – seeing his horrified face as he slowly bled out . . . priceless. He really thought he was invulnerable.”

It was a lie; Yuuri _knew_ it was a lie. If he concentrated hard enough, he could find Phichit’s aura. The pressure that had been building in his ears suddenly felt like it had cracked his skull. His head was flooded with a burning sensation – almost like a raging fever, but the intensity focused between his eyes.

He couldn’t move; struggled to breathe. When he tried to think, his mind was blocked as if he were in the midst of a ferocious panic attack.

“Now,” the man drawled slowly, taking a couple languid steps towards Yuuri. “Raise your knife.”

Yuuri wanted to scream as his arm, against his will, lifted his kunai. His muscles twitched and joints ached, as if his very body was attempting to fight the foreign magic that coursed through his aura.

“Point it at your heart.”

His hand trembled as his grip changed. The point of his kunai now pointing towards himself.

Yuuri broke out into a cold sweat. He couldn’t think of a way to escape – his mind so utterly frazzled. This man was going to make him kill himself.

Watching his hand quiver, poised to plunge his kunai into his heart, Yuuri realized that his body was reflexively fighting the spell. He had to stop thinking, stop throwing himself against the mental block and allow his body to rely on muscle memory.

With a terrified exhale, Yuuri let himself go.

“Now, end your miserable life.”

The kunai moved towards his chest, moving in slow motion in Yuuri’s eyes.

Just before the tip could cut into the fabric of his shirt, he felt himself fall back into the shadows, his kunai dropping to the ground as his hand suddenly went lax. For a few brief moments it felt as if he were watching himself from the pools of the Underworld; his spirit disconnected from his body.

His shadow surged forward, easily splicing into the man’s. Briefly, the spell’s hold on him lessened as he instinctually grasped at the man’s fragment of soul.

In that moment, his spectral hands wrapped around the writhing soul of a man bound to kill him, he came back into himself. Tightening his grip, he used all his magical energy to rip at the fragment until he felt something give.

“Wha – wha – aaaah!” the man screamed – a higher pitch than Yuuri thought was humanly possible.

Then he gathered up the man’s soul and plunged himself into the depths of the Between world before casting it down into the Underworld.

Yuuri rose back to the surface, reentering the world of the living with a weak gasp. He collapsed onto this hands and knees, next to the prone body of his assassin.

With muscles spasming from exhaustion, Yuuri reached over and pressed his hand to the man’s chest, his other moving to pull a fourth kunai from his ankle strap.

The man’s chest rose and fell in a gentle cadence, but he did not move. Moving his hand upwards, he pressed two fingers against the assassin’s pulse point. A slow, but strong heartbeat.

Cautiously, Yuuri leaned over him. The man’s eyes were open, but they stared at nothing. Looking further down, he grasped the kunai that was still buried in the man’s outer thigh and wiggled it. There was no reaction – not even a flinch.

Belatedly he realized he could no longer feel the prickling sensation of the man’s aura. His soul was gone.

Yuuri fell back onto his bottom, trying to put some distance between himself and his attacker, who had now become a breathing corpse. He pressed a hand to face, choking on a sob. Who would create such a foul magic?

He almost couldn’t believe that he’d done something so horrid to a person. Despite committing many assassinations, he had always tried to make a person’s death as quick as possible – the last mercy he could offer.

Here however, the soul returned to the great cycle of reincarnation, but his body was left behind as an empty husk. Could the man still register what was happening? Did he continue to have thoughts? Even if he couldn’t, a human should never have to suffer in such a way.

Bone-weary, with tears of self-disgust dripping from his chin, Yuuri took his kunai and stabbed it into the man’s heart. He whispered a prayer begging forgiveness as he pressed two fingers to the assassin’s neck once again, waiting until his pulse completely disappeared.

Once he was positive that he’d put an end to the man, Yuuri crawled a few paces away before his fatigue caught up with him. The final shrieks of the cicadas began to fade, and he passed out – embracing the dark comfort of unconsciousness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys for your patience. uwu I struggled in a couple places with this chapter, but I did it!
> 
> Thank you for reading!
> 
> The wonderful Jade_ice made some lovely art for Chapter 1!   
> The Guild halls: https://photos.app.goo.gl/VhbCsmsixb4bdMHK6  
> Queen Hisa and her tool: https://photos.app.goo.gl/3zRPgtDDqcuwPrss6


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